


Ties That Bind, Revamped

by rainsrabble



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 111,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsrabble/pseuds/rainsrabble
Summary: When Spike comes to Buffy for help with his latest disaster they are forced onto an unexpected path. A bond is forged in blood and a big bad looms. Buffy can handle a Hell God, no problem, it's her attraction to Spike that she can't seem to slay.





	1. Enemy Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Foreword:
> 
> This story will be a revamp of my first fanfiction story Ties That Bind posted on The Spuffy Realm site originally in 2004. The original story is beloved by me and will not be taken down. That story is a lovely testament to my journey in becoming a writer and the heavy flaws at the beginning are like a diary of who I was at that time and how far I have come. The Spuffy community not only helped me become a better writer, as demonstrated throughout those chapters, but helped me through a very difficult time for me personally. I want to leave it, and the reviews that accompany it, unmolested. That being said, the story needs a lot of work and has always felt unfinished and immature to me. If it bothers me, it will always bother me. The actual story is my favorite piece that I have ever written and I feel that my inexperience prevented me from doing the story justice. So I want to repost the story and right these perceived wrongs in my mind and I am hoping that I can do a better job of putting the story into words for my readers to enjoy.
> 
> Acknowledgements:
> 
> Thank you in advance to blood stained lies who has so generously donated time and effort to help me reinvent this rather lengthy 27 chapter story. Also Kbeautimous who has stepped in to Beta read while blood stained lies is not available. She has done the last couple of chapters and I'm so appreciative of all her help. She writes for the Supernatural fandom so if you like Dean be sure and stop by and give her some love.

**Ties That Bind**

**Enemy Mine**

"Buffy, could you please try to pay attention; this prophecy is very disturbing. If the lunar cycles add up, we are talking about a force that could in fact..."

Buffy blinked and refocused her attention on Giles. She tried her very best but it was hard. The only thing she knew about the cycles of the moon were that vamps tended to lay low on nights that werewolves prowled. Eventually he would get to what impossible thing she was expected to pull off in order to save the world again. If she didn't pay attention, she would miss it. This was important. She couldn't help it if she had other things on her mind.

Spike was back. A shiver ran through her just thinking about it. She often made light of him to her friends, but the truth was that he was in a league of his own when it came to fighting. She had the supernatural strength and speed and she trained hard. It usually was enough. Most vamps relied pretty heavily on the perks of the species, and were pretty clumsy fighters. Not so with Spike. He was crazy fast and clever and ruthless. A true killer. She hated to be so narcissistic but if he was in town, then he was probably there for her. Looking to bag himself a slayer. Looking for revenge for the Gem of Amara.

She practically vibrated in readiness. He had come so close to killing her more than once. She'd certainly done her own damage to him. Yet here he was, not even trying to lay low. It was sick and twisted and wrong, but Buffy couldn't wait to see him. She wanted to fight with him. She wanted to look into his crystal blue eyes and face her death. He excited her in ways she couldn't even begin to explain to herself. Fighting Spike was a rush, plain and simple. She had enjoyed the occasional rollercoaster, but had never really figured herself for an adrenaline junky. Still, in the dark corners of her mind – that she would never ever share with anyone – she could secretly admit that she liked the rush of power she got when he squared off with her. She had faced lots of vamps. Vamps stronger and meaner and older than Spike. There was just something about him that thrummed that secret spot inside her. That brought her bloodlust to the surface.

Giles finally shut up and looked up at her expectantly. She turned to see Willow bent over her laptop, eagerly tapping away. So willing to help. So sweet and pure and good. The anti-thesis of everything evil that went on in this town.

"Will, tell me again what Spike said."

Willow jumped in her skin, obviously startled and stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights. Buffy gave a passing thought to trying to see what it was that Willow had been working on that had her so nervous but pushed back her burning curiosity.

"Uhmmm, well I-I told you already."

She leaned closer. "Tell me again. It's no coincidence that you ran into him. He knows who you are. If he talked to you, then he wants me to know it."

"That Parker was bothering me. Asking about you. As if I would tell him anything about you. I had pretty much told him to get lost when I noticed Spike there. He just melted out of nowhere and scared the daylights out of me. It couldn't have been three minutes after sunset, it was still light out."

Buffy nodded. She couldn't believe that slime Parker was harassing Willow. The minute she had started ignoring the pig he had suddenly become very interested again. She was wise to his ways, so he was changing the game, coming at her sideways through her friend. It made her want to hunt him down and punch his stupid, smiling face. Not that she would. Because that would be wrong. Unlike some other non-people who had no problem throwing their super strength around and hitting poor helpless humans.

"So, he was there," she continued, looking sidelong at Giles. Giles had already chided her for not immediately screaming and running. "Spike was there, I mean, and he asked if Parker was bothering me. Which I of course said no, because it's none of Spike's business, but he didn't believe me because, well I don't know why. But the next thing I know, he's all testosterone city like I need my honor needs defending or something. It was mega weird."

"And Spike hit Parker?"

"Laid him out like Thanksgiving dinner," Willow nodded sharply.

Buffy frowned. Why would Spike have such a big problem with Parker? He'd seemed quite delighted with Parkers slimy ways when he'd teased her about it during their most recent throw down. Why would he even get involved in a Willow dispute? It wasn't like they had a rosy past either. She had been vastly relieved that Spike hadn't harmed Willow when he had kidnapped her, but now, along with this episode, it was seriously wigging her out.

"Giles, is Spike on record for being friendly with humans? Letting them walk away?"

"Well it's not like vampires kill every single human they come across like mindless rabid animals," Anya piped up from across the room. Apparently paying attention despite being seemingly 100 percent involved in her television show. She turned to look at them over the back of the couch. "Even someone as ruthless as Spike needs to blend in and survive."

"But this is twice now. He had Willow at a disadvantage and just let her go."

"Not to mention walked her home safely," Xander piped up with a sneer. His usual good nature always went sour when talking about vampires. "Maybe he will call her up Tuesday, ask her to the sock hop."

"I cannot stress again how dangerous it is to associate with vampires on any level," Giles broke in. "Even if he appeared to be friendly, he is evil and cannot be trusted for even a second. He could have snapped your neck and walked away before anyone noticed."

Willow's face hardened in mutiny and Buffy spoke up before they could argue again. "I don't know what else she could have done. She couldn't run, he's faster than her. Being rude would have made him angry, and we all know his temper. She got to safety as quickly as possible, keeping in public as much as possible. What bothers me is him asking her what she thought about vampires. What's his game? Popping out of nowhere, defending her honor, making conversation. It's weird, even for him."

"Maybe he's lonely," Anya said, without bothering to turn around this time.

Buffy scoffed and Xander laughed.

Anya did turn then, head swiveling slowly. Her eyes taking on a pinched angry look and her frown was tight and angry. Buffy didn't think that Xander realized how much his constant dismissal of his girlfriend's thoughts bothered the girl, perhaps she ought to have a discreet word with her friend. Maybe he thought she didn't notice. Anya might be a little out there but she wasn't stupid and really didn't like being treated as if she was. Anya pressed on defiantly, a little snark in her voice now. "Vampires usually run in packs and with him and Drusilla on the outs, maybe he's looking for new friends."

There was a moment of quality silence before even Buffy had to laugh. Friends. No, this was something more sinister. He was definitely up to something and trying to predict what Spike was up to was about as easy as a Professor Walsh pop quiz. She needed to get out there and find him. Get a jump on him this time, before he surprised her. She needed to make sure he stayed far away from Willow.

Giles clicked his book down smartly on the counter to refocus her attention. "Spike will either engage with us or he won't. In the meantime, Willow is to go nowhere after dark alone. If he has some special interest in her, then we need to take extra precautions. Right now, this prophecy is of a much more dire nature. I've got almost no information but my best guess for the timeline is imminent. Maybe tonight. We need to be out in full force."

"Did he say anything else?"

Giles sighed at being ignored but Buffy didn't care. Vampires, old clever vampires, taking an interest in one of her best friends _was_ a priority. Even Giles sometimes thought 'oh it's just Spike', Buffy can handle him. If she could handle him so well, he'd be dust somewhere by now. She hadn't managed to stake him and he'd done her serious damage. They weren't the one's that had to be on the other side of one of Spike's devastating power punches.

"Nothing I haven't already told you," Willow shrugged. "I told him I was a vampire once and didn't care for it. That seemed to really impress him. Then he said he had to go take care of some problem with Dru. I asked if it was serious and he said it was no big. Then I blinked and he was gone."

"Spike, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, bottle in face British menace, said 'no big'?" Buffy questioned. That was just a little too California speak for him.

"'It's nothing I can't handle, don't worry your pretty noggin about it,'" Willow mocked in a pretty credible imitation.

"Buffy, we have more serious problems than Spike!" Giles was finally losing it. "This prophecy may be lived out within the next few days, and the spilling of slayer blood mixed with that of a master vampire on hallowed ground is not an acceptable aversion," The glasses came off and Giles began to polish them with vigor. His British accent becoming more pronounced. "I don't know what the council is thinking, I simply can't allow some vampire to drain you regardless, we must research..."

"Wait, the council wants to kill me?" Giles suddenly had her complete attention. "I am so not going to die again, been there, done that. Thank you very much. They can send their prophecy to that fruitcake Faith. It's her turn to take on unstoppable evil. Nope, no way, no how. Not gonna happen!"

"Buffy, I'm sure no one wants to kill you, I mean other than the vampires and the demons and the…shutting up now," Willow trailed off awkwardly leaving a heavy silence.

"Now that I finally have your attention, the most direct translation I can decipher is this," Giles replaced his glasses and adopted the tone of lecture.

 _"The Dark Princess Dances_  
with Her Borrowed Power,  
Calling Souls into the Abyss.  
Searching for her lost lover,  
Her Stolen Life-force is the key.  
The Master opens his veins,  
Washed with the blood of the chosen.  
Mortal enemies bound by purpose,  
Spill hope on the mouth of hell,  
Holding the end at bay."

He set the book down and leaned on the edge of the counter, reaching for another book and continuing with stuff he had already said. Repeating it was not going to make it any clearer. Washed with the blood of the chosen. Giles seemed to think that meant a vampire bite.

"There are various shades of meaning of course, and there are other references in the A'Decan and the Wic Fableon. Near as I can tell, we are probably dealing with a female vampire, Vampire Blood is referred to as Stolen Life-force in many ancient texts including ..."

"Okay so I have to let a vampire bite me and then slit his wrists on the hell mouth. We'll call Angel and get it over with. No big...Buffy saves the world again. Now if we could get back to Spike..." She interrupted. No offence, but she wasn't about to read the A'Dook or Wic Fabulous or whatever.

"Buffy, this is not "No Big". The Vampire has to be specific. One of the Vampire's Children. Her Stolen Life-force. And a Master Vampire. I desperately hope it will not be necessary. We need to find a way to circumvent the whole prophecy. You would be completely helpless. Not to mention, where would we find such a vampire? And it would have to be done within minutes of the opening the hell mouth or it would be too late. Better to find her and stake her before she gets anywhere near the hell mouth..." Giles head whipped up at the pounding of the door.

Buffy let him go to open the door alone while she chewed that over. That did sound awfully serious. If Giles was this concerned then it wasn't a fly by night prophecy. Female Vampire. Spike had indicated Drusilla was in town also. Maybe there was a connection. Big, powerful baddies tended to align with big, nasty prophesies.

As if she had conjured him with her thoughts, there was Spike, in all his salty goodness. He leaned casually up against the door jamb, head cocked to the side, blue eyes swimming with mirth. His trademark half smirk on his full lips, cigarette held with precision between his thumb and his forefinger. "Hello Watcher," His voice washed over her like waves of darkness, his soft drawl sending tingles up and down her spine. "Might I come in for a chin wag?"

"Spike!" Giles had gone completely stiff, his eyes as cold as ice, face frozen in his Ripper Mask. "Buffy, hand me a stake."

"Well, well, well. So much for Brit hospitality. Get me a bloody stake. Is that any way to treat a guest? No mollycoddling for the vamp that saved your sorry asses not too far back. As if I was just strolling through town, and thought I would pop in on the bleeding Slayer and her band of merry misfits."

Unable to ever stay still, Spike erupted into motion and began to pace around the porch, punctuating his words with his hands, duster flapping. Absolutely no fear. She had just handed her watcher a stake, she had a stake and he couldn't even get in because of the barrier, and he had the nerve to sit there and lecture them on their manners. He walked with that slow, rolling rock that she associated with him, his words drawn out with that particular way he spoke, completely unique to him. "Not a thought in your pretty empty heads. Why a Master Vamp such as myself would come a calling, polite as fuck all."

"All right Spike, enough with the dramatics all ready," Buffy interrupted, exasperated despite herself. She knew she shouldn't argue with him, give him the satisfaction, but she heard her mouth open and press on without her permission. "You did not save anyone's ass. You grabbed your loopy girlfriend and ran out. Followed by kidnapping my best friend, and your Gem of Amara stunt. Do you really think we are on good terms here?"

She shoved her way in front of Giles so Spike would be front and center, within lunging distance. He too stepped closer to her, hovering right at the barrier, looking down at her through long black lashes and giving her that head tilt look of his. Her body was coiled tight as a spring, adrenaline washing her senses in white hot heat. She was ready to spring across the barrier and hit him first for a change. Get in two, three good powerhouse swings before he could react. Knock that cocky smirk of his off those surprisingly full lips. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

"You are not supposed to be in Sunnydale. You and Dru are supposed to never show your faces again. You just coming back here, begging me to kick your ass. Like a cockroach. What's the matter Spike, did torture not give your sex life the _zing_ it needed? Little woman run off again, need another love spell?

"Buffy, enough!" She glanced at Giles who was still staring at Spike, the very image of hostility. "We don't care what he wants. He's a vampire. Kill him already."

Spike flung his hands in the air, clearly exasperated. "Are you people retarded! Why do you think I'm here? For fun?!"

He leaned to the side to peer in the room and gave Willow a friendly little wave. "Hey Red, that you?"

Willow responded with a well thought out, eloquent squeak and Buffy shifted to block his view of her, her hand tightening on her stake, lifting it menacingly.

"Listen," Spike raised his hands in surrender. "The lot of you make me want to heave, but you are the only White hats I'm on speaking terms with, and my Dark Princess needs a bit of help."

He tossed his first smoke and immediately lit his second. Fire flared in the darkness, illuminating him in a wash of orange glow, outlining the dip and hollow of those wicked cheekbones before he was cloaked in darkness once more. Seemingly ignoring her raised weapon, he began to pace again, ranting more to himself than to them, while she stood there a little dumbstruck, her stake hand drooping a little as he continued, clearly infuriated.

"She's completely gone 'round the bend, cocked up a crazy plan, managed to wangle a dark wizard to help her. You think I want your help? No, but I couldn't think of anyone else. I just need your watcher to look up a thing or two about soul calling, before the whole thing goes nuclear. Can't get my girl out because of these anti-vamp charms, and I would be the first bit of flesh old Angelus would want. You're the second slutty," he stabbed the cigarette hand at her. "Saving the world, that's your soddin' gig, White Queen takes King, shows over, take a bow, besides...not like I have a soul to lose, but you..."

"Did you say Dark Princess? Soul Calling? Drusilla may be connected to this prophecy we have uncovered. What is it she intends?" Giles finally broke into the monologue. He looked no less menacing, but somehow suddenly he also looked curious as well, and Buffy could see that he was struggling with himself not to turn his back on the evil vampire and rush to his books. She couldn't help a small smile.

"Not gonna stand on the bleedin' porch, Ripper! Invite me in and we can talk shop," at their incredulous wordless gaping stares, he smirked and let out a low chuckle. That laugh should be illegal. Her whole body was strung up tight as a wire and she just wanted to get to the fighting. She felt like if she didn't hit him soon she would just completely snap. "Not gonna eat you, I'll behave like a bloody saint. Feet off the coffee table, good manners, and all that other Nancy-boy English guest muck. No snacking on the A Team, Scouts honor."

Buffy couldn't help the unladylike snort that came out of nowhere. "If you were a Scout, we'll go to England and have tea and scones with the Queen."

His gaze narrowed in on her, smirk in full blown evil mode. He was so annoying. "Might have ate one once. 'Sides, isn't that what a bloke is supposed to say at moments like this?" It wasn't fair. Evil, undead vamps were not supposed to be endearing. Comments about eating innocent scouts were not supposed to be in any way charming. Her lips stayed mercifully in a straight, unyielding line but her eyebrows rose all on their own. His smirk widened into a small smile.

"Giles, let him in," her watcher of course began to stutter in protest. She stopped his spluttering before he could properly start. "Spike knows I can kick his evil ass. If he wanted to eat us, he would have waited until one of us was alone and pounced. If he knows something about this prophecy, we need to know it too."

Spike only let out another low chuckle in response, and bounced on the balls of his feet. He reminded Buffy of a child who couldn't sit still.

"There is no smoking allowed in my flat," Giles ground out through clenched teeth. Spike's eyebrows went up a mile. He took a long drag on his cigarette, tossed it to the side, and held up empty hands. Drama Queen. "Spike," Giles paused and looked like he was going to be sick. Buffy kicked him in his ankle just hard enough to sting. She got a dirty look for her trouble. "Come in."

"Ah, magic," he sighed with unholy glee. Then he swooped through the door with unnatural speed, darting between them, brushing up against her hard enough to make her sidestep to keep her balance. She spun quickly, to keep him in her view and within striking distance only to sigh and lower her stake. He was already sprawled in Giles' chair with a slice of lukewarm pizza halfway to his mouth. He was so weird.

Buffy crossed the room and slapped the lid of the pizza box down. "Vampires don't eat."

Spike took another big bite of his pizza and exaggerated his chewing before swallowing. Buffy was mesmerized. She just couldn't look away. Her adrenaline high was waning and she wanted to toss herself on the couch and have a piece of pizza too. She crossed her arms under her breasts and settled for giving him her best mom glare. He ignored it of course.

"No, the bloody poof doesn't eat. Got to uphold the dignity of vampires and all that rot. But an errant evil childe like me don't give a fuck. I like pizza," he took another large bite and sighed with satisfaction. "'Sides eating might actually give the wanker something to enjoy and can't have any happiness there. Big brooding ponce can't have a God damn taco because there are starving children in Africa or wherever," he finished off his last two bites and eyed the pizza box with a disturbingly lustful look. Buffy grabbed it and flounced it into the kitchen. If she couldn't slay him, she could at least deny him pepperoni goodness. If he thought bringing up Angel was a good way to smooth things over, then he obviously needed to brush up on his people skills. She waltzed back in, and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch.

"OK Spike, spill. What has your crazy girlfriend done now? How does it affect us? Why should we even care?" It wasn't fair that he should be so comfortable, surrounded by enemies. Sprawled in Giles' chair like he owned it, smirking at everyone. He even gave Willow a full-blown smile and she blushed a crimson wave, immediately turning back to her keyboard with a tiny nervous sound. "Leave Willow alone," his head swiveled towards her and she shivered.

"Even vampires know to be friendly to Witches. Isn't that right Red?" Willow hunched in on herself a bit and made a almost inaudible protest sound. Buffy rolled her eyes and let out another snort. God that was embarrassing.

"Yeah, kidnapping her, threatening her with broken bottles. I'm sure she is so impressed," Spike had his head tilted to the side, an almost soft look in his eyes. His voice was softer, more cultured, his accent closer to Giles'.

"Red knows I was 'round the bend. Love's a funny thing, makes you crazy, makes you quiver, do soddin' anything..."

"Enough!" Giles was polishing his glasses furiously. "Were not here to make friends, or hear about your love life, as sordid as it may be. Now tell me what Drusilla has done so that we can determine whether we need to act upon it or not. Then you will leave and not darken my doorway again" he set his glasses firmly back on his nose, included her in his scowl and swept over to his books. British dignity be damned. Everyone was composed except for her.

"Right, no need to get your knickers in a twist," Spike sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. He was wearing that red silk shirt she liked on him so much. No, bad Buffy. No liking anything about the big, bad, evil vampire. He jerked his head to the left and popped his neck. Gross! She made a disgusted face but held her tongue, even when he leered at her. "I did go hunt Dru down after I left town. We might fight, but our love is eternal. Things were going fine, other than Dru has got it in her skull that she wants Angelus back. She wasn't near as bad as the first time he left us. She was feeding just fine, and wasn't cutting herself up, so I figured she would get over it and we could get on with our un-lives. Angelus is gone, and even she would see that eventually," he snorted and sprawled back in the chair, his tight black tee molding to muscles she was intimately familiar with. She'd sparred with him enough to know he was a rock-hard specimen. She jerked her eyes away and made herself concentrate on his words.

"Shoulda known better. Bint came across a spell in jolly old England. Pretty wicked spell, too. Causes all the souls in this realty to be sucked into a hell dimension. Dru and me don't have souls to worry us. Angel would be all soul free, and no one would be left to re-curse him, as all your souls would be in hell," he laughed "Evil little thing she is, I just have to luv her."

His fond smile made her stake hand itch. Only Spike would find that insane creepy woman loveable. "She couldn't pull it off though, it's complex dark magic and Dru's power doesn't run that way. I indulged her and told her I would look for a warlock or a witch and kept her as far from anyone who could help her as I could. Everything was fine till I woke up in our hotel room in Arizona and the bitch had cleared out. Stupid ninny had tucked me a sleeper."

He rubbed his neck with one hand, turning away, clearly embarrassed that she had gotten one over on him. It pulled that shirt tight, and he shifted his hips, bringing her attention down. Buffy jerked her gaze away, horrified, and prayed no one had noticed her straying eyes. It wasn't her fault. Spike was very sensual and she was only human and damn it. His hand came back down and rested there on his thigh, causing her eyes to stray again. He paused in his story and she realized he was staring at her. So she gave him a dirty look and prompted him to continue with a wave of her hand. He tilted his head, crossed his ankles, and carried on.

"I tracked her to good old Sunnyhell, chit leaves a bloody trail a mile wide. Figured I'd tie her up, drag her by her pretty long hair to Ireland. I'm too late though, she's gone and hooked herself up with a power dealer. Don't know how she found out about him, but word in town is that he has the stuff. Dru's power is very rare and I'm thinking this dealer will make the trade she needs. I'd go get her but they were clearly counting on me because the whole place is bollixed up with Anti-Spike Mojo. It's not like she'll need to do any traveling to get to the bleeding hell mouth. Rack's joint moves about. I need you lot to figure out how to circumvent this spell. Or juice me up to get past the barriers they have got. Or decimate this Rack fellow. Time is short, so have your Watcher activate those big squishy frontal lobes of his and I'll be on my way."

"Whatever," she drew her word out long and annoying just to get the pleasure of his scowl. "Dru's so loony tunes, she couldn't figure out how to draw a circle to cast a spell in. We so don't have anything to worry about. Should have known listening to you was a waste of time and pizza," Buffy stood and twirled her trusty stake. "It's time for you to make your fancy exit now because Mr. Pointy has an itch for Spike."

"Oh, I'll scratch your itch, little girl," Spike leered at her and then rolled to his feet to face her in one smooth motion. "Dru isn't stupid, Blondie, she's insane. That just makes her all the more dangerous. After one hundred some odd years, she knows enough about spell casting to pull this off."

"Enough, both of you!" Giles was bent over his books, a very worried expression on his face. "Everything that Spike says is in alignment with our prophecy. If it is indeed Drusilla that the prophecy portends, then we must waste no time in keeping her from the hell mouth," he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Spike. Eyes like daggers. "What worries me is, why is this a concern of yours, Spike? I can't imagine you are so afraid of Angelus that you would throw in with the lot of us just to avoid him."

Every inch of Spike went rigid as steel. His head swiveled like a raven's to face Giles, his hands were tight fists and his voice cold as ice. His accent changing dramatically to become as precise and cultured as the royal family themselves. "I fear no one, Watcher. Without a soul to animate your tasty bodies, you will all die. Just what will Dru and I eat then? Pigs, like Peaches? I think not," Buffy drew a deep shuddering breath, pulling in Spike's unique scent. She hadn't thought of that. This whole thing was getting more serious by the second.

"The dealer Dru has found is very powerful. He will drain Dru's psychic power and charge her up with Dark Mojo. She won't need to call on any deity to help her; she will already have the power. All she will need to do is say the words. She already knows the spell she needs to cast. If I remember correctly, the hour before dawn is the proper time to do the casting. That gives us just a few hours to stop her. I already have a tranquilizer strong enough to put her down for days. I'll take her to Ireland or Israel or wherever, and I'll burn that fucking book. Are you going to help or not?"

"You are of course correct, Vampire," Giles admitted, albeit reluctantly. "Where do you think we should begin looking?"


	2. The Clock Winds Down

**Ties That Bind**

**The Clock Winds Down**

Buffy glanced over at her friends. Willow and Xander had tagged along on this little field trip and her attention was divided between guarding them from Spike and looking for any sign of Drusilla. Xander walked obsessively close to Willow and had a stake gripped tightly in both hands. They kept bumping into each other, and if she hadn't been so stressed it might have been funny. Nothing about this was remotely funny.

Spike seemed totally oblivious to the tension he had created. Walking to the left of them, just out of stake range. It was majorly weird strolling down the street with him. She should be fighting him, not helping him. Her entire universe had gone all wonky. The weirdest part to it all was, when she glanced at him casually, he was just another guy...who liked black...a lot. A cocky, swaggering, idiot guy. At least he wasn't smoking, all the better to catch scents on the wind.

"Are we getting close yet? These shoes are so not for walking a marathon," Buffy took a micro-second break to lift her foot and flex her toes, first one foot than the other. Spike spared her a glance, raking his eyes up and down her person before dismissing her with an eye roll, and she had to hurry to catch up. Even the way he walked annoyed her. He strutted, like he owned the world and everyone should just get out of his way. It should be illegal to roll your hips that way. They were on a public street for crying out loud, not Chip and Dale's. Not that she would ever go to a place like Chip and Dale's.

"I told you Slayer, it was here. It moves. I'll feel it when I'm close," She scoffed out loud and rubbed the stake in her pocket for comfort. Spike heard something, vamped and turned his head sharply. Must have been a false alarm because his human mask slid back on and he kept walking. Buffy shivered uncontrollably. Giles dire warnings were ringing incessantly in her head. Everybody knew that Spike was Dru's Childe. If she managed to open the hell mouth, Buffy's blood mixed with Spike's would be able to close it. That was a completely unacceptable plan B.

Buffy didn't want to die and she had no doubts that given the chance Spike would drain her dry. She loved Willow and Xander but the simple truth was that they could never take Spike in a fight. If Dru got the hell mouth open, this night would be her last. The urgency propelled her on, even as things became more and more hopeless. She couldn't seem to keep her hands from rising over and over again to touch the bite mark on her throat. Even Angel had been unable to control the blood lust once he got started. This was so bad. She forced her hand down, along with the panic, and just kept walking.

Maybe she should send her friend's home. If she were dead, Spike wouldn't hesitate to kill them both. Probably laugh gleefully the whole time. Willow looked at her from the corner of her eye and Buffy gave her a tight smile. Willow was smart enough to put two and two together; she had heard the prophecy after all. Thank goodness she was also quick witted enough to keep her mouth shut in front of Xander and Spike. If it came to that then she would tell them, otherwise...they never need know.

If Spike had even the slightest inkling of what was at stake here, he would encourage Dru to open the hell mouth just so he could open her veins. It had been Giles' concern that Spike knew about the prophecy and that this was all an elaborate plan. Spike wasn't much of a planner though, and this didn't have the flavor of one of his plots. Any end game of his would have them fighting to the death, not having her surrender. Distracting her by having her wander the streets for an hour looking for some evil magic depot was definitely not his style. He didn't have that sort of patience.

Spike stopped suddenly, spun and kicked the wall to the nearest building. Three, four, five times in rapid succession.

"Temper much?" muttered Xander, his first snarky remark since they left. Before Buffy had let him come she had made him promise not to provoke the evil undead. She couldn't spend all her time protecting him. Who knew what Spike would do if they pissed him off? Truce or no truce, Spike was the very definition of unpredictable. This wasn't some sappy TV show. There was no time for an epic battle. It was once again the end of the world, blah, blah, blah. They had spent enough time at Giles', arguing over whether or not it was OK to stake Drusilla. Spike refused to help unless they promised that she wouldn't be harmed, and she would bite her tongue before she admitted it out loud…they needed his help.

Apparently only demons and humans with invites could find this "Rack" because of heavy cloaking spells. Made a morbid kind of sense. So here they were, at four o'clock in the morning, wandering the streets of Sunnydale, and Spike had finally snapped. Buffy couldn't help the large yawn that came from nowhere and Spike spun and growled at her.

"No Growling!" Buffy snapped. If Xander had to behave then so did Spike. Or he would be meeting with the business end of a stake. Except that she couldn't kill him, because she just might need him to bite her. Damn it! It was a Friday night. She should have spent the night partying and be passed out drunk on a couch somewhere. That is what other college students did on Friday nights. It's a sign of major life suckage when you fantasize about being that girl who puked in her own shoes because she drank too much at a party. "I thought you said you could find this place," Buffy felt a little growly herself.

"I soddin' told you. The bloody place moves. They must have known I'd be back. Gotta think, where would they go to hide? Probably holed up in a bleeding Church!" He spun back to the building and punched the brick wall. Buffy bet that hurt. Fresh bits of broken brick crumbled to the sidewalk. Buffy's hand creeped up to her bite mark again. Two more quick, successively powerful punches ripped holes in solid brick and Buffy found herself remembering just how iron his grip was. She wouldn't be able to break his hold if she was weak from blood loss.

"We-we could go back to Giles and try another locator spell," Willow said in a very small voice, trying a timid smile. Spike was obviously over the whole being nice to witches phase because he snarled at her too and punched the wall again. He didn't however try to rip Willow's head off so she supposed he might be trying to control himself. He turned to glower at them all and Buffy noted his bruised and bloody hands. Hands that would be wrapped around her throat if they didn't figure this out. He sure had big hands, long fingers. His nails were actually painted black. Could he be any more cliché?

"Jesus Christ, are you always this stupid? I fucking told you a locator spell won't work, what with the cloaking spells and all that rot," So much for restraint. "God Damn twits, her and that ponce. I'll rip his rutting head off; magic isn't gonna save his ponce-y ass when I get my hands on him."

Buffy took a deep breath and let it out. Spike raised his eyebrows at her and curled his tongue under his teeth as he let his gaze stray to her chest as her breath puffed it out. She refused to cross her arms and give him the satisfaction. Let him look. She took another deep breath, internally vowing to waste no time bickering. No bickering, no bickering, no bickering. She repeated the mantra in her head.

"Spike," she said in a perfectly calm voice. You didn't see her flying off the handle. She was the very image of calm. "We don't have time for this. If you don't want to try another locator spell, just where do you think we should look?" She wasn't yelling, she was only raising her voice to make sure that she was heard because she didn't want to repeat herself. He smirked at her and rocked back on his heels. The whole wide world could lose their souls because there was no way she was going to let this arrogant, infuriating, bastard bite her. "I don't see you coming up with any ideas. Probably because all that bleach has finally soaked into your brain and you don't have two thoughts to rub together!" She was above insults, but sometimes facts just had to be stated.

"Right then, Slayer. I'm sure you were born with that color. Let's head to the high school. I don't know how long this pillock takes to shift his hovel around, maybe they are already there. We wouldn't want to be late, miss the festivities. Rushing is never a good thing with spells."

Her speech must have penetrated that thick head of his because he was being all friendly again – as friendly as Spike could be anyhow. She had just known that calm reason was the way to go. She glanced again at his mangled hands. Idiot man, uh vampire. If they did have to get physical, those hands would be useless. Xander looked like he was about to swallow his tongue if he didn't say something soon and Willow was staring at the sidewalk as though it held all the secrets.

As they turned and started heading for the school, Xander fell into step with her, bending a bit to talk to her quietly. "Tell me again, why we haven't killed bleach-boy yet," he murmured as he shot Spike the look. The 'I hate you beyond all reason' look. The one she had thought was just for Angel. "We don't need him Buffy; we can take the Mad Hatter. True, I'm just the White Rabbit, but at least I'll get us there in time."

"Oooh!" broke in Willow excitedly. "And Buffy can be the evil Queen, a-and off with her head!"

Spike made some sort of annoyed sound and met her gaze with an exaggerated, eyebrow-lifting roll of his eyes. She very carefully did not roll her own eyes or show her own irritation. That would hurt her friend's feelings even though the whole reference was silly. Willow and Xander grinned at each other as if they weren't in the middle of saving the world, again. Sometimes she felt like an outsider amongst her closest friends. All alone, surrounded by the people she loved most. Spike looked away again and she sighed. Xander's question didn't really need to be answered, he knew why they couldn't kill Spike… yet. But she understood all about filling up awkward silences with empty words.

"Well as fun as his dusty death would be, we have yet to find his crazy ex. I'm just dying for that reunion," Buffy chirped. She could pretend the world wasn't ending with the best of them. They had to find her, she didn't want to die. She was only 19. Not even old enough to drink, yet old for a slayer. At least she hadn't argued with her mom this morning. She tried to be aware of stuff like that now because she never knew what morning might be her last. Starting with the master and every other disaster following him, she walked towards her death. Just because she didn't know how long the journey would take, it didn't mean she didn't fear it. "Besides I don't want to get vampire dust on my new shoes."

"Would you quit flapping your jaws about the bloody shoes already? This is why I avoid humans. I don't know how Peaches ever tolerated the lot of you. Oh yeah! Because the ponce-y bugger needed someone to talk to about shoes," Spike stopped suddenly and eyed a Cavalier parked in front of the Espresso with interest. Oh no, he wouldn't steal a car with them here. Even he wasn't that stupid. "Look-see what I found, Slayer. A ride to the hell mouth."

She stopped, crossed her arms, and tried to imitate Willow's resolve face. "Spike, you are not stealing a car," he ignored her and tried the door, of course it opened, easy as you please. It never failed to amaze her how blind the people of Sunnydale were to the evil in their town. "Get away from that car Spike, We are walking."

He got in and bent down and started messing with something under the dash.

"Spike, let's go!"

The car roared to life. It wasn't that loud but in the stillness of the night it sounded like guns blazing, and metal music, and other loud things...okay that made no sense. But she was not going to be part of Grand theft auto. He closed the door and drove the ten feet over to them and rolled the passenger window down. "Hop in kiddies."

Xander opened the back door and he and Willow both slid in. Traitors. They were supposed to be on her side. Her blood boiled and she gritted her teeth. She was going to kill him. Later. Right now she had a hell mouth to protect, sacred duty, yada, yada, yada. Furious, she turned around and stomped towards the school. He rolled the car alongside her, keeping even with her. Damn it, her right heel was beginning to blister. She would not have chosen to break in her new boots today if she had known she would be hiking all over town. This was not fair.

"Come on pet," he crooned. The undead should not have sexy bedroom voices that made her shiver. Not that she knew all that much about bedroom voices with her limited bedroom experience. But his soft slur was decadent...just the way she imagined a bedroom voice should sound. The undead should croak and their voices should crack because they were demon's, not people.

She would be smart to remember that.

"I know your feet are tired and hurting. I'll return the car, soon as I'm done with it. No sense walking when you can slide in here next to me. Besides luv, we're saving the world for them, least they can do is let us borrow their car, hmmm?" He titled his head in the way that she liked and the shadows danced over him making his eyes seem like dark pools of midnight, when she knew that they were really blue ice and damn it, her feet did hurt. It was at least another twenty minutes to the high school, and they were running out of time. She was so exhausted that his sick, twisted logic was beginning to make sense.

She stopped and stared at the car in trepidation. She looked up and down the street. Big surprise, not a police officer in sight. She bit her lip and Spike reached across the seat and opened the door for her, looking up at her with his chameleon eyes. They didn't look soulless at all. "Come on now ducks. Got to keep up your strength if you're gonna stake me later."

She stomped her foot in frustration but got in the car and slammed the door shut. Immediately he took off, hell bent for leather, no regard whatsoever to trivial things like stop signs and white lines. Thank God it was 4:30 in the morning. In minutes, he was parked right out front of the high school doors.

"Why bother with mundane things like parking lots, when the lawn is so much more convenient?" quipped Xander from the backseat. Spike was already out of the car, but he did shoot Xander a look. Vampire hearing you know. She glanced at the ignition. Spike had left the car running, there was no key and Buffy had no idea how to turn it off. The mass of wires that he had pulled out of the dash could have belonged to an alien spaceship for all she knew. She got out of the car on shaky legs, followed by her friends.

"Come on you soddin' gits, I can feel the vibe of the place," he stopped abruptly and frowned. "Vamp barrier. Can't go any further children," he took out a wicked looking needle and handed it to her. "For Dru," he explained. "Knock her right on her ass. She's not that heavy. They'll be in the back room."

Buffy's eyebrows competed with each other to see which could reach her hairline first. "Back room of what exactly? We are in the middle of the freaking front lawn."

Spike's hand was pressed up against nothing and she reached her hand out. It passed his, and disappeared. She pulled her hand back quickly, relieved to see it again and cradled it to her breast.

"It's invisible Summers," he spoke slowly, like maybe she would understand better if he drew his words out longer. "Cloaking spells ring a bell in that pretty little noggin' of yours?"

Buffy gave him her best withering stare, took a deep breath, and walked through the invisible barrier. She might have hesitated if he hadn't been staring her down, daring her. So she supposed he was good for something after all. Her friends followed without hesitation. Loyal to the bitter end.

"Your next stop, the twilight zone," Xander said, Buffy nodded absently. The waiting room, she supposed, had dingy walls and bad light from a bare bulb in the ceiling. Hospital chairs lined the walls and two of them were filled with people. A dirty lanky looking guy with greasy hair in jeans and a ripped t-shirt. The other a neat looking older woman with glasses and a huge purse. But what really caught Buffy's attention was the grey skinned midget in the third chair. With his big ears, and big eyes, and three rows of small pointy teeth. Xander was humming some weird music and it echoed through the room in an eerie kind of way. There was only one door; it must be the back-room Spike mentioned. As crazy as it sounded, she found herself wishing he was here by her side. Thank goodness no one would ever know her silly little stray thoughts. She really needed to kill him soon.

Buffy took another deep breath and walked resolutely towards the door. They had to stop Drusilla before Spike got his wildest fantasy and drained her dry right on the hell mouth. The big guy, with the major BO stepped in her way. "Wait your turn Blondie."

"Are you trying to be intimidating?" she asked with complete innocence. Then she stomped hard on his instep and brought her knee up hard where it hurts. She pushed him back in to his chair and smiled sweetly. "You might want to work on that," and was through the door before anyone else could protest. Spike had called her Blondie; she decided she didn't like it.

There was a properly creepy looking, villain type lounging in the corner on some gaudy chaise lounge. His hair was long and untidy and his eyes were completely black. The only other thing in the room was some demon floating on the ceiling. As eerie as that was, her spidey-sense was quiet. No vampires were in here. She addressed herself to the wiggy guy in the corner. "You must be the dealer. Well I'm not impressed. Where is the vampire?"

He smiled at her; it was not a pleasant expression. The man should look into some skin care products. "Drusilla has long gone, little girl. I have no use for you. But if the strawberry tart wants a turn, I can make her body sing for days," his voice was low and gravelly. That was how Spike's voice should sound. Pure evil. Maybe she should record it so he could practice. Buffy was beginning to feel the last dregs of panic setting in. She was pretty sure that the vampy ho was not here. They were running out of time and she was crossing the line from nervous into frightened.

"Damn it!" she cursed out loud and spun around to leave. But Willow didn't follow. The dealer was staring at her without blinking. The way Willow was staring back caused an actual chill to go up Buffy's spine. This guy was not going to get his claws into Willow. She met Xander's eyes; they each gripped an arm and hauled Willow out of the room. The minute the door closed, she shook her head and looked dazed.

"Wha' happened. Did we get her?"

"She's not here Will, we have to hurry, we're out of time!" The three of them ran through the barrier. Spike was waiting, shifting from foot to foot like a nervous teenager. Maybe they could still stop her, maybe she hadn't started the spell yet. But it was time to cut Willow and Xander loose. "Guys, Spike and I are going to try to stop her. But I need you to go get Giles. He'll know what to do."

Xander of course began to protest and surprisingly, so did Willow. "Enough, I don't have time for this. I need Giles! This is important," Buffy was in full slayer mode, and by now they ought to know not to question her at times like these. Buffy met their eyes and both of them nodded, Willow slow and reluctant. She spun and sprinted for the high school, Spike by her side. When they reached the doors she turned. Xander and Willow were getting in the car. She watched as they backed off the lawn. Buffy forced herself to meet Spike's eyes and opened the door to the high school.

They rushed through the empty hallways; thank God it was Saturday morning. She felt an odd sense of detachment. It was like when she was walking to meet the master, and she knew she was going to die. Her feelings and thoughts seemed to almost belong to someone else... like they couldn't touch her. Her nauseating fear seamed to float just out of reach. Her feet moved at one rapid pace, her thoughts speeding ahead even faster, but time crawled out of step with her urgency.

They sprinted down the steps to the basement, cut through the boiler room, and burst into the barren storage room beneath the library.

They were too late.

Drusilla hovered 6 feet above them, head thrown back, arms flung wide, surrounded by a heavy swirl of dark light. She had started without them.


	3. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**Once Bitten, Twice Shy**

The room was spun with darkness and pale light. The ground rumbled and trembled beneath her feet. All signs of impending apocalypse.

Drusilla was a strangely beautiful counterpart. Suspended by nothing in the air, rotating slowly. Dressed like the sacrificial virgin in a delicately pleated pure white gown, her long, dark, perfect hair floating about her as though she were under water, her feet dangling bare. She failed to notice them, features calm and peaceful, arms outstretched, eyes closed, while she wrecked magical havoc. Angel had once told her that Drusilla had taken her vows to the Catholic Church on the day that he turned her. That her visions had frightened her. Now, here she was opening the hell mouth. Chanting lowly to rob the world of their souls, so that she could have her lost lover back. A walking tragedy. It would almost be a mercy to stake her, but Buffy had made a promise not to kill her today. No, instead it would be her own blood that was shed.

"Christ on the cross," Spike whispered. He turned to Buffy and met her eyes with an almost compassionate look. He was so good at imitating them – people. Spike could care less if she were afraid. "Would you like me to turn you now? Without a demon, today you die."

But he was still Spike, and only Spike would think it was an act of compassion to turn her into a demon. The low rumble under her feet grew louder. There wasn't much time now. Underneath Drusilla, on the ground, was a careful circle of ancient runes, each drawn with sharp precision. They glowed softly with an unholy orange light. It was easier to stare at the ground than to look at Spike. She didn't want to see the triumph of victory light him up.

"Spike… I know how to stop it," her voice was soft but Buffy knew he heard her. He had flung his head back, staring at the figure suspended above them. Drusilla's voice was louder now, words in some other language pouring out of her, vibrating with power. She began to rotate faster. "There was a prophecy that said how to stop this."

She had his full attention now.

"Yeah, how's that then?" his voice was as soft as hers. She flushed, remembering when Angel had bitten her. She'd been prepared for the pain and blood loss. What had surprised her had been the pleasure. It had been overwhelming and powerful. Each suck from her neck had thrummed through her. She didn't know if her love for Angel had turned it into an intensely erotic experience, or if it was something else. His fangs buried in her body, his arms around her, as he was literally consumed by need. He'd lost all control. Being bitten had been better than the one sexual act that they had shared.

She didn't know if the niceness of it was a phenomenon because it was her boyfriend, or if that was how vampires got away with biting people all over the world. It wasn't like there was anyone to ask. She sure as hell couldn't have brought it up to Angel. He didn't want to talk about it period. It wasn't like she could ask her watcher if vampires had mystical orgasm powers to make them better predators. She didn't think Faith had ever been bitten. So she'd filed it away as an experience of hers. It wasn't like a vampire was ever going to bite her again. It had been a special case. She should have known better. She was the Slayer. A vampire was bound to get his fangs in her sooner or later. At least Spike was a halfway decent vampire. He wasn't some wet behind the ears stoner who got turned last week.

"Blood of a Slayer, mixed with the blood of one of Drusilla's Children, on the magic thingy," she gestured at the circle of runes vaguely. She couldn't remember the word that Giles had used. Pentagram? Maybe, that's what Willow always called them. But her drawings didn't have those weird rune things. And her circles didn't glow. If the bite was a little more sensual than it ought to be, since Spike was killing her, she'd just hold out. If it felt nice he didn't need to know. At least she'd die happy.

Spike whipped out a wickedly curved blade from inside his coat and sauntered up to the circle. The runes were pulsing now, glowing fiercely, as if they were alive. She forced herself to look away, to look at him. Her killer. He certainly did look the part, despite his human mask. Dressed all in black, holding a dangerous weapon, all while smirking at her. "You mean to tell me, all we need to do is bleed on this circle? Come on then Slayer, open up those pretty veins."

She forced herself to walk to him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. He could probably smell it pouring off her. It didn't matter. This had to be done. She put her mom's face in her mind, front and center, and one foot in front of the other.

"Not that simple Spike," he tilted his head to the right and sucked his cheeks in. He had wicked cheekbones. They looked as sharp as the blade in his hand. "Our blood has to mix. You would have to drink from me. Then, bleed yourself."

His eyes widened and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. The sound beneath her feet was loud enough now that she had to talk a little louder to be heard and shift her feet a little to keep from being thrown. Drusilla's voice was overwhelming in the cavernous space. There was no time for anything else.

He stared at her, dumbstruck, and she acknowledged with a look how insane this was. The knife went between white, even, human-looking teeth as he shrugged out of his duster, laying it to the side. He peeled off that silky red shirt as well, leaving him clad in a body and bicep-hugging tight black T-shirt. She refused to look away as he stripped for her. She kept eye contact and her hand away from her bite mark. They didn't have time for this. What game was he playing? It wasn't like she was going to fight him. She was a lamb for the slaughter.

He moved suddenly with vampire speed, and in the space of a stuttered heartbeat he was behind her, one hand pressed to her stomach. She flinched but didn't pull away. She braced herself for the pain of it, for the pleasure, but to her shock he didn't bite her right away.

"How much blood, pet?" he breathed in her ear. Cool air ghosting over her neck, creating goosebumps. She had never been this close to him when she wasn't busy trying to kill him. He smelled like leather, and cigarettes, and some soft, warm scent that was she surprised to recognize as pure Spike. She guessed she knew him well. And the soft slur of an endearment in her ear was…decadent.

"I don't know," Buffy whispered back as he drew her hair to the right with his free hand. It was a lover's touch, soft and silky. Exposing her. She felt more naked with her neck bare to a vampire than if she had stood in front of her class presenting a paper in her birthday suit. She could feel her blush spreading from her face to her neck and chest. Still, she let him touch her. Still, she didn't break his hold. Instead she closed her eyes and thought of her mom, Willow, Xander, Giles. The people that mattered more than her.

He nudged her forward, walking her till they were inside the circle of runes. She took a breath and titled her head. "I'm ready."

He pushed the handle of his blade into her hand and she accepted it, gripped the leather wrapped handle hard, but it offered her little comfort. Drusilla was shouting, and the ground was quaking in earnest now. Everything in her screamed to pull out her stake, use her elbows to get him off her, turn the knife on him. To struggle for her life. Instead she pulled in a breath and stayed quiet, accepting his powerful arms around her, his cold, strong fingers coming up to run a delicate touch along her throat.

His fangs pierced her neck. She winced at the pain, sharp and cutting, but it wasn't quite as bad as she remembered. Angel's savage bite had nearly ripped her throat open. Spike however, was being gentle with her. Sliding his fangs in slow, using the hand braced against her stomach to pull her into him. He held her face with a vise-like grip to still her instinctive struggle. Then he began to suck against her neck, slow, warm pulls. Her hand came up to grip an iron forearm as her body swayed against him, against her will, and she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood so as to keep any sound of pleasure from escaping.

Jesus, it was good. Maybe it was just her. She had always enjoyed necking before she started dating vampires. Body-wide arcs of pleasure bloomed with each slow drag of life from her body, sweeping over her neck, her breasts, her thighs, her sex. She felt supercharged and tingly and wonderful. He shifted his arm, tapping it against her knife hand and she tried to concentrate well enough to give a clean slice that was deep enough to bleed heavy. That was why he had taken off the coat. Duh. He slid his other bare arm down, skimming her front, brushing her breast, to receive the same treatment. She did the best she could, pressed up against him the way she was, trembling from pleasure and blood loss.

It must have been good enough because he held his arms out, tilted to drain and heavy dark drops of blood hit the runes. She leaned back into him for support. The knife clattered to the ground as her hand grew too weak to hold it and she found herself arching back and clutching at his shirt for balance as her pleasure intensified. Spiraling down, tightening. Her hips rocking without her consent, her ass grinding back into him. She had some tiny measure of validation to feel him hard against her backside, at least she wasn't the only one feeling it.

Still she tried to hold back. Despite those rhythmic sucks at her neck. Despite that rock-hard body wrapped around her. Despite the fact that her thoughts were growing foggy from blood loss and she was having trouble remembering why this shouldn't feel so damn good. She tried and she failed. It was building, the pleasure, she couldn't stop herself from clawing at him to keep him close, rocking restlessly as her need climbed. Then her orgasm was hitting her hard and she didn't care that those little cries of pleasure were coming from her, and she couldn't get close enough to him, and then the relief left behind was so profound she felt consciousness slipping away a little and she floated in a sea of calm as death came for her.

Suddenly the calming sips from her neck ceased. The room was spinning and Spike's body was still pressed up against her. But she was alive and awake, and… was he licking her neck? Was the room spinning or was that just her head? Her knees were so weak, they started to give out, the floor rushing up to her as she began to tumble. Spike caught her around the middle with his strong arms, and she leaned back against him again and sighed. She ought to be freaking out that he was getting blood all over her but she was just relieved that she wasn't on the floor. Buffy stared at his forearms in fascination. Even as she watched, the deep cuts were beginning to heal. "What happened? Is the hell mouth closed? Are we finished?"

"Don't know, Ducks. Dru dropped like a stone," he nodded with his head and she turned a little to see the vampiress sprawled on the dirt floor about five feet from them. "And the ground quit tossing us about, but this doodle we're bleeding on is still glowing like crazy. Could be that your blood's making me so high but this place feels like it's still pulsing with mojo. How you feeling? Up to fighting the forces of darkness and all that rot? Still all en-souled?"

She smiled wryly but didn't have enough energy to laugh. "Mostly I feel dizzy. And relaxed."

"Yeah, the bite does that," he actually turned his face into her and nuzzled her neck. Shouldn't she not appreciate that? He was her mortal enemy and all. Still, she felt warm and safe and relaxed and weak and just hummed in appreciation of his attention. Suddenly he yanked her back away from the circle. "What the hell?" he yelped, in her ear, far too loudly. Ow, her head was beginning to pound. Probably extreme dehydration from blood loss. A major wound always had her head splitting. "Hate to bite and run but I think we need to get out of here, Slayer."

The runes in front of her glowed hotter, more intensely, and almost red. She was aware she ought to care more, but her head was still all fuzzy and Spike jerking her around had brought on a wave of nausea. She wanted to tell him to give her a minute to recover but that was stupid. There was no time. His urgency was spilling all over her.

"Sounds like a plan," she mumbled as he pulled her roughly towards the stairs. Why the hell was he helping her? And why the hell wasn't she dead? He was taking this truce thing a little more seriously than an evil vampire ought to. Not that she was going to point that out to him. And damn those lights were pretty. "Spike, is it just me or are those rune thingies alive and uh, following us?" The runes no longer lay on the ground; they floated in the air, burning with an unholy light. If she wasn't mistaken they were coming for them fast.

"Bloody fucking hell! Bleedin' damnation! Come on Slayer!" So much for gentle. She found herself upside down over his shoulder, as he ran for the exit. But the runes were faster and in seconds they were surrounded. If he didn't put her down she was going to be sick all down his back. Serves him right, she thought, for being evil. Somehow he read her mind and dropped her on her rear end. She bounced hard and moaned as she ran a hand over her bum. Ow. "Jesus Mighty Fuckin' Christ! What now Slayer?"

She stood carefully, one hand to her temple. Her head was already starting to clear thanks to that slayer healing. Out of the frying pan into the fire. The bright orange drawings were spinning around the two of them, too fast to make out individual runes anymore, and her brain was catching up enough to realize that this was very much of the bad.

Were they were closing in? She stepped closer to Spike. They were definitely closer. Apprehension was building up to fear. Her legs were getting stronger, her nausea was fading. She had survived being bitten by William the Bloody, only to be devoured by light. Now she was afraid. Giles hadn't said anything about this.

"Do you think they want more blood?"

The circle of light got tighter forcing them closer together.

"Should we try to break through them?"

The light was spinning so fast now that it looked solid. She could see nothing outside of the small space occupied by her and Spike. The light flickered and glowed. Orange and red and white-hot yellow. She reached out a hand to see if they were in fact solid and pulled her burned finger back with a cry. He grabbed her hand and looked at it, sharing a look of shock with her. Then he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her head in his chest and slid her arms around him, trying to get as far from that light as possible. They couldn't move any closer and the light was brushing against them now, and God he smelled good.

"Don't think they are gonna let us get away, Slayer. You think your watcher's on his way with the cavalry?" he rested his head on top of hers and she closed her eyes. She was pressed up against him so tight, and he was pure muscle, and cold comfort. The whirlwind around them was kicking up air and noise and she felt a different kind of dizziness come over her as the magic touched her. Then there was blessed darkness as she succumbed to unconsciousness.


	4. Caught in the Web

**Caught in the Web**

There was a gnawing emptiness in his middle that he associated with human hunger from deep in his past. It was overwhelming and sickening and made his mouth water annoyingly. He could feel the sun blazing in the sky through several stories of concrete, and the dark pull of sleep trying to hold him under where he belonged at 8:00 in the morning. However, he began to claw his way to alertness as the utter wrongness of the way he was feeling began to penetrate his consciousness.

She was getting farther away.

His warm, soft girl had been removed from his side.

He needed to do something. He needed to go after her. He needed to bring her back. He needed to savage those who had dared touch what was his.

He needed to wake up.

It was a Herculean effort to wrench his eyes open and crawl to his knees. The heavy drag of magic that pulsed through him wanted to keep him down. It wasn't done with him yet. He could feel it working its wicked way. It was taking root, even as he forced himself to his feet so he could stagger towards the exit. With the glow of the runes finally doused, there wasn't even enough reflected light for his vampire eyes to see. It didn't matter. He could feel the right direction and stumbled after her in the dark, half awake.

He swallowed hard, overwhelmed with thirst that wasn't his, and tried to wet a mouth that wasn't dry. His tongue was coated in rich, dark, slayer taste and he moaned as a little more got pulled down his throat. Her powerful blood was pulsing through him, letting him fight the magic that was trying to force him down.

He forced himself to stay awake, stumbled up the stairs with none of his usual dexterity. It was working his way inside him, the magic, into every nook and cranny of his body, his thoughts, his brain. The urgency to close the physical distance that was widening between them became almost frantic and he tried to hurry before she was out of his reach.

He wrenched open the heavy metal door and darted across the lobby to the edge of shadow. A sea of light stretched from the windows to where he stood anchoring him against his will as he felt her moving farther away – even as the feel of her settled into him more completely. His head pounding with a headache that wasn't his, his neck throbbing with a bite he hadn't received.

She was unconscious and being taken from him, and he was almost feral with the need to get her back. The sunlight held him at bay and his demon moaned and thrashed in fury as Spike frantically tried to figure out a way to get through without bursting into flames. The school had no sewer access and even at his age, he couldn't dart through this much sun. There was no shadow to be had. Nothing to shield him from the raging ball of fiery death in the sky. He'd never hated the sun more. He felt them shifting her body, probably to load her into a car. She was so out of it she didn't even stir when they were less than gentle, and then the distance was increasing too quickly to do anything about it.

He raged with animalistic fury, snarling, gnashing his teeth, pacing like a caged beast. He was, for a while, deprived of all logic and reason as he gave into his demon, howling with rage and helplessness and vowing retribution against those who had wronged him. He would massacre them! He would chop them into messes and bathe in their blood and feast on their bones. He pummeled his fists furiously into a row of lockers until his knuckles split and his bones ached. He turned and collapsed back against the solid metal, breathing hard for no reason, and watched fascinated as the damage to his hands healed as quickly as it had been created.

Slayer's blood, whoa, powerful stuff.

"Get it together Spike," he muttered to himself out loud and actively began to work on calming down. A lesser demon wouldn't have managed, but he was old, and from an old family, and always had good control over his demon. Finally, he managed to wrestle himself into submission enough to drop to the floor and think. He felt as feral as the day he'd been turned. He was almost thrashing with it. His blood lust was sated, warm with sweet slayer blood that pulsed in powerful waves through his body. This hunger was different. The magic that had consumed him had raged through every fiber of his being, infusing Buffy Summers into every nook and cranny, but then had stalled, leaving him strung out and desperate for it to finish.

What the hell had those runes done to them and why the hell hadn't they finished? Was it because her watcher and friends had come for her, removed her from him? Maybe, but it seemed unlikely since distance hadn't lessened the invasive feel of her. Even across town, most likely her home, he could feel her blood soaked shoes being removed from her feet. Someone was peeling her sticky shirt from her torso. One set of hands, gentle, most likely the witch. Buffy remained blessedly comatose, unaware of the dehydration and raging hunger he was feeling on her behalf.

Unaware that Spike had become a part of her.

Something about this rang a bell in his noggin, but it made no sense. Probably because it took almost all of his concentration to keep from running out into the sunlight in some ill begotten crusade to get to the girl's side. To finish it. To complete the magic. His craving was growing more specific, more overwhelming as the minutes ticked by. He could feel an echo in his unconscious counterpart. A likewise craving. Stirring her, moving her. He didn't just want to be close to her, he wanted to devour her. To taste her lips like he had her blood, nudge those pretty knees apart and delve inside, to mark her inside the way he had outside. Jesus, he wanted to _mate_ with her.

The realization had him coming to his feet in a panic. He knew what this was. What the magic wanted. One thing he would never do. He'd never even entertained entering into that sort of bond with his Drusilla. His dark goddess. His beautiful nightmare. Somehow that magic, those runes, had opened up a mutual blood bond with the slayer of all people. He hadn't even known it was possible with a human. Hell he'd half thought it a myth.

It was one of the few cautions he'd taken to heart when he'd become a vampire. Never indulge in certain types of blood-play with another vampire during sex. If you surrendered, even for a moment, you might find yourself bound for all eternity. The mating bond could only be created when blood, body, and mind all melded together in one moment. It was rare. Vampires were just not the surrendering type. It was practically legend. A tale of the boogie man to keep bad little vampires up at night.

Buffy was no vampire. It shouldn't matter that she had given her sweet self over to him completely. It shouldn't matter that he'd found her so satisfying, so delicious, that he'd drawn his fangs out of her, given up his desire to kill in order to save her. She had deserved better than being sucked dry while under truce. He'd owed her. That wasn't necessarily surrender, was it? That moment of contentment he had shared with her while he held her? Yes, their blood had blended, maybe even their minds, but not their bodies. All the ingredients weren't there for such a bond. It was like the magic was trying to force the rest of the ingredients.

What the hell kind of spell had his barmy bitch cast?

It was agony to turn away from his sunlit prison and force himself back down into the dark basement. Deciding to do anything that wasn't get to Buffy and _own_ her, set that magic off something fierce and it began to twist through him mercilessly. He could barely think, the waves of it were so strong. Each step in the wrong direction had him literally fighting with himself. He felt like he was gnawing his own damn arm off. But he couldn't get to her now. He wanted to think his own willpower to deny this outside force was part of it, but the truth was it was only the sun that kept him from lighting off after her, pulling her in and giving in to the whole damn thing.

He left the door open for light and found his way to Dru. She always slept like the dead and casting a powerhouse spell like that had left her limp and irresponsive. Still he didn't let up, shaking and shouting her name till she opened glazed eyes to stare at him. "What did you do?"

"My poor, poor prince," she murmured, reaching up to touch his face. "I cut your strings. I set you free. Wretched boy, getting caught in her web. Letting them wrap you in fine silk."

"Dru, the spell. It did something to me. I need to know how to fix this before it runs its course. Is there a counter spell?" Her eyes slid shut again and he shook her furiously. "Dru, before it's done I need to intervene."

"Spilled milk, kittens come to feast," she moaned, turning away and he spotted her spell book under her dress. He snatched it up, letting her rest. When half-awake, she was even more difficult to understand, and he needed to understand. He lit his lighter and got down low to the ground. There was no trace of those runes and the only slayer's blood to be smelled was on his clothes. The magic wasn't here anymore. It was inside him. Inside her. Screaming at him to work its will.

The screams were getting louder. He'd half a mind to go ahead and make a dash for it. In 300 to 800 seconds, it would at least be quiet in his head with nothing but the sound of ashes scattering on the breeze to bother him. Christ, he was doused in the girls scent. She'd been so close, so warm, so fucking responsive. The bite had always been good, especially when he was liking it, but this had been phenomenal. Him feeding off her want, her feeding off his want. Creating a circle of desire that had him hard and panting and grinding himself into her ass in a matter of heartbeats. Needless to say, experiences with mere mortals were a pale imitation. Was that what the spell had fed into? That want?

Spike pushed the gnawing hunger to the side of his consciousness, the screaming desire, the raging fury at being separated from Buffy by her friends and forced his way over to a shaft of light. He'd never had a patient moment – in life or death – but he couldn't fucking get to her now and there was nothing to be done but figure this out. He flipped through the book, managing to keep himself from just ripping it to shreds in frustration, and found a page with runes similar to the one's that had attacked him. The page was littered in notes and crossings-out and word changes. Spike wanted to wake Dru to beat her senseless for her stupidity. She had made changes to some ancient powerful spell and now he was owned by a bloody slayer. How could she be so thoughtless?

He bloody hated magic.

* * *

Buffy's dreams felt dark and blood-soaked and disturbing. She was running and seeking and trying. There was something left unfinished, something that she had to do. She had to find him. She had to get to him. She felt destruction and chaos following after her, devouring in her wake, but she couldn't stop. She had to keep seeking, it was the only way.

She twisted and turned, trying to rise to consciousness to escape the nightmare that wouldn't end and finally, she managed to get her eyes open. She was in her bedroom. In her bed, sweat soaked sheets twisted around her legs. She shook off the disorientation of her dream, of course she should be in her bedroom. Not some barren hell dimension that had resembled earth far too much for comfort. Out of habit, she began to fumble for her notepad next to her bed to write down the half-remembered details before she realized that the haunted longing she was feeling hadn't abated with waking.

She felt weird. Not in pain necessarily, but her thoughts were swirling madly in her head and she felt disconnected from her body. She still felt the overwhelming need to find him and now that she was awake she realized who that him was. Spike. She wanted Spike. Not only did she want to find him, she could feel him. She jumped out of bed and ran to her mirror, desperately touching her face and seeing herself reflected. No, she was not a vampire.

Thank God.

She sank onto her vanity chair, knees weak with relief, even as she tried to understand what was going on. She felt connected to him. She could feel him in her mind, in her body. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she knew it was Spike filling up empty spaces that she hadn't known were there.

Across time and distance, she could feel his feral frustration building irritation in her. He needed to be here with her and she was not with him. How could she stand it? How could she do this to him? She could practically hear him screaming in her mind.

' _Come to me_.'

The need to go to him was so overwhelming that she was out the door and down the stairs before she realized what she was doing. She probably would have kept right on going, if it weren't for the fact that Giles and the gang were sitting in her living room.

Giles rose to his feet upon seeing her. "Buffy, how are you feeling?"

She stopped, conflicted. Her main instinct was to ignore Giles and just run out into the street barefoot, pajamas and all. Even as she acknowledged how colossally stupid that was and that she should do no such thing, she felt herself moving closer to the door, almost unable to stop. Thankfully Giles intervened without realizing it when he came and led her by the elbow into the living room. She forced herself not to jerk away from his touch like a mad woman and tried to grasp sanity and pull it around her.

Her entire body was screaming to go out the door. Her head felt stuffed full of wool. Her thoughts made no sense. She couldn't seem to reach out and grab one. The colors in the room seemed too bright, Giles' voice too loud. She felt like she was going to be sick and the crazy thing was she knew it wasn't something she ate. She was sick to her stomach because Spike wasn't here... and she really needed to get to him. That made even less sense than the fact that she was linked to him in some weird way.

"What happened?" she allowed herself to be pushed into the couch and accepted a glass of water from Xander. She'd been so distracted by Spike, she hadn't realized how thirsty she was. She drained the whole glass and stared forlornly at it as they all began to tell her what happened at the same time. She couldn't even manage to sort her own thoughts, much less the ramblings of three people. She buried her head in her arms and fought the urge, no the _need_ , to get to Spike.

That was just crazy and she would be doing no such thing. Truce over, he didn't kill her before, but now he wouldn't hesitate. Why should that thought make her want to run through the night screaming? God, she felt sick, and dizzy, and she needed him and he wasn't here. Didn't he know she needed him? He was raging on his end. Furious and feral. The violence in him was more overwhelming than she could have ever imagined. Is that how all vampires felt? He was feeling it too, this need to be together, and he was so angry that they were apart.

She rose to her feet slowly, took a few jerky steps to the door. The need to go to him was overwhelming, overpowering. What would it hurt to give in? Why shouldn't she go? He needed her.

"Buffy, are you feeling OK, cause you're acting like 'Spacey Buffy'," Xander asked as he stood up as well. OK? No she was not OK, she was having homicidal urges to go and take care of a fucking vampire. She knew he was pacing, and furious at the sunlight that was keeping him from her. "Sit down Buffy, tell us what's wrong."

She sat down in the armchair across from the sofa. "Giles, please tell me what happened?" There, she'd be more specific so they all wouldn't start rambling. She was not going to go to Spike, he was a blood thirsty evil vampire, practically married to a loony tune who wanted to destroy the world. She was probably just delusional because of the blood loss. That was the only thing that made sense. Maybe Willow could spell her headache away so she could think clearly. It was almost impossible to pay enough attention to Giles to follow what he was saying, but she concentrated hard anyway.

"Well, we found you passed out with Spike and, we assume Drusilla, in the basement of the school. It was pitch black down there and the power was out so we didn't search further to see if the vampiress was there also. You were rather close to the vampire so we knew he was passed out as well."

"God Buffy, we were so worried that we wouldn't get there in time, what with the biting and the drinking and the evil British guy," Willow stared at her wide eyed. Wasn't there usually pizza at these types of powwows? Or donuts. Jesus, she was starving. If they were going to invade her house after her near-death experience the least they could do was bring the munchies. Buffy shifted uncomfortably, her nipples super sensitive against her silky top. She was aware of her body in a way she definitely was not used to. She could feel Spike was aware of it too and the thought had her blushing a sunset. Couldn't someone get her some more water? She'd almost died from blood loss, she needed to hydrate.

"You shouldn't have let us leave," Xander sounded mad even. "God Buffy, what's with playing vampire chew toy?"

She couldn't even summon the extra emotion to be furious with Xander for his asshole comment. Hello, she saved his ass again didn't she? But her need for Spike was swirling around in her head, and her feet were twitching. She suddenly felt a sharp echo of pain from Spike's foot – she was betting he had kicked something. Spike was nothing if not impatient and ill tempered. He was beginning to get pissed off at her, for not coming. The strangest thing was... she didn't want Spike to be mad at her.

Ok, she really needed to kill him now.

Strangely that threat was completely empty, she had no real desire whatsoever to dust her blue-eyed vamp. Oh god, did she just call him _hers_? Even in her own head that was just too disturbing. And she really needed to go to him.

"What I don't understand is why he was passed out. Having ingested slayer blood, he should have been very powerful indeed. We were armed to the teeth, but I was not hopeful as to the outcome of any scuffle we might have had. Especially with Drusilla by his side. We didn't even try to stake him for fear he would overpower us. Of course, whatever the reason for his demise, his passing out saved your life... but I would still like to do some research..."

"That's not how it happened. What time is it?" Buffy's body throbbed with a disturbingly familiar, low-down want. Could he feel that? She could feel him. God her head hurt. She couldn't make heads nor tails of anything. She felt like she was going to die if she didn't get to Spike soon. She somehow knew that all this confusion in her head would wane, if only he was with her. It was so hard to think at all about anything except that he was sitting now, and his head hurt too. She wondered if eating something might dispel some of the awful swaying nausea she was feeling. Her friends ought to know by now that Slayer metabolism did not run on perky cheer and fashion sense. Her bite had hardly even healed. She needed calories, stat.

"It's about 5:30. Buffy, you look disoriented. How is your head, are you concussed?" She'd slept all day. No wonder she was starving. How long till sunset? Then he would be here. She knew with absolute certainty that the second it was even semi dark he would come for her. She really needed to make sure that Giles didn't dust him. Oh God, she needed him. How long would it take for him to get here? Would he steal another car? "What happened to that car?"

Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike. Oh God, she couldn't wait to see him. Giles said about 5:30 so it could be later, couldn't it? She got up and went to the window, peering out. The sun was hovering above the ground, an orange ball of flame. How long did the damn thing take to disappear?

"Oh we parked it where we found it. The people are sure to notice all those wires Spike pulled out but at least they got it back. We couldn't figure out how to turn it off though so we just put it in park," Willow shrugged nonchalantly and smiled at her, so open, so honest.

Just what did Spike want with Willow anyway, she was the slayer and he should only be interested in her. Oh God was that _jealousy_? When would he be here? Could he tell what she was feeling too? Did he just feel that flare of jealousy? Well surely he would think that she was jealous over someone else because being jealous over Spike was insane. Would he bring Drusilla? She would stake that ho without a second thought.

She shifted again, uncomfortably aware that her panties were straight up damp. Maybe if she got some food in her she could think about something else other than how it had felt to be bitten by Spike. Was this left-over mojo? From the spell? She felt just as sensitive as she had while he was sucking at her neck. She raised her hand, touched the still-tender, healing bite and felt him react, a swift kick of lust in his midsection. She felt his rumbling possessiveness and desire come over her in a wave that left her trembling.

She looked over at Giles – if they were going to undo this then she had to tell him. And he did look very concerned. "Spike didn't even try to kill me," she had everyone's attention now. "He quit drinking when Drusilla fell..."

She told them everything, trying to remember every detail because it might be important. She did leave out the whole calling Spike hers, and the jealousy thing. Oh, and the hot burning lust that was trying to consume her alive. That couldn't possibly be important. "Can I get some more water?"

"So now he's in your head? You can actually feel him in your head?" She nodded and glanced at the door. Spike was on the move. How far was it from the school? How many minutes? She couldn't think straight enough to remember. Her body was strung up tight with anticipation. Tingles ran from head to toes, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, soon. Soon her vampire would be here. He had better not bring Drusilla.

Willow, the goddess that she was, brought Buffy some more water. Oh God, it was so lovely going down. She swallowed every last bit, hoping the coolness would cool her off too. No such luck. Now her mouth was just wet enough to wet her lips. What had started out as an awareness of her body was now a full on throbbing need. She felt as wound up as she had on the hell mouth. She squirmed a little bit. He would be able to tell. This had to be coming from him. She only lusted after one vampire and Spike was most certainly not that vampire.

"This is unprecedented. I don't remember any references to a phenomenon quite like this before. We will have to research a possible way to break this connection immediately. It would be so helpful if you could perhaps try to sketch these runes Buffy, we could translate them and try to make some sense of this."

Vampire speed, she hadn't thought of that. He sprinted up the walk and Buffy ran to the door and threw it open. There he was in all his black clad glory. He hadn't even raised his fist to pound on the door, because he knew that she would open it. She had been so sure that having him near would help but seeing him there did not calm her body. Oh no, nothing could even be that simple. Instantly, her entire being was on fire. Her skyrocketing arousal was ten times more intense than when Spike had bitten her. Her panties soaked clear through and she literally throbbed between her legs with want. It took everything she had not to fling herself into his arms.

"What did you do to me?"


	5. Desire

**Desire**

The slayer looked like he had just ravished her for six hours. Her eyes were wide with shock and lust, strawberry lips parted, just beggin' for him to tug and bite them. A riot of golden curls splashed over her face and around her shoulders, the ends curling around her breasts, nipples thrust up against her thin shirt…hard little nubs. Would they be rosy pink? Dark and dusky? And the smell of sex rolled off her like honey. Spike's cock jumped to attention and his demon leapt up and shook its cage. ' _Take her_ ', it screamed.

Spike bit hard on his lip in an effort to keep his demon contained. He hadn't grappled this much with the thirst when he'd been turned. This was a completely different level of craving. The feral beast inside him raged – ' _Want, take, have. Mine, mine, mine._ '

She was feeling it too. Being this close to her magnified the multiplying effect of their bond and the lust rushing through his body. He could feel her desire and his lust was feeding off it and spitting it back at her. Bloody hell, he wanted her. What did it matter why? She was his for now and she was almost shaking with his need to touch and calm her.

Just like that, Spike realized the full and far reaching consequences of this type of bond, why vampires rejected it on every level. It was one thing for him to resist. It was another to deny her. He couldn't leave his poor mate trembling and twitching with desire and confusion and magic bombarding her on every side. Buffy needed him.

"Gonna invite me in luv, or should I just take care of you here on the porch?" She blushed scarlet and he couldn't help but smirk at her, enjoying his power to affect her. Her heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears that he could barely hear his own voice. Her breathing and the sound of her blood as it rushed through her veins added to her overwhelming presence. Bleedin' humans were so noisy. She peered around him, looking for Drusilla no doubt. She'd still been comatose when he'd left. Hopefully he would be able to get this mess sorted and be back to her before she was up. Dru had always been a late sleeper.

"Your invitation was never revoked."

When did her voice get all throaty and sexy like that? Her words hit him with a fresh rush of adrenaline and it was all he could do to not just reach out and pull her in for a savage kiss. He had an open invitation to her home.

He managed to restrain himself for one reason only – the embarrassment rolling off her and through him in waves. She was mortified by her reaction to him. Confused. Wet. Damn this link between them, but the need to shelter and protect her was overwhelming. Fuck it all, he was a soddin' vampire and he was mated to a human. A slayer, but still a human. Fodder, food, disposable, mortal. Why not just string him up in the sun?

"Your watcher's got quite a mess to suss out, eh pet?" Pet? Why was he calling her sweet names? He also didn't like the gentle tone of his voice, but he couldn't seem to help it. He could use charm when he needed to, but it was calculated, not like this. He wanted to hold her, stroke her back and soothe her fear. He was going to stake himself. "Brought Dru's spell book so I recon' we'll be right as rain soon."

She stepped back to let him in and his gaze lingered on the patch of skin between her top and her baggy britches. Her midriff was bare and golden and he fantasized briefly about dipping his tongue in her navel. Then he would push those clingy pants down her legs... bugger! They had better sort this out soon because he wasn't in the habit of denying his demon what he wanted. Happy demon meant happy Spike.

The assorted people in the living room stared at him slack jawed but he ignored them. He couldn't think of much beyond his raging hormones and the need to shag the Slayer into the nearest horizontal surface. He eyed the floor, the couch, and settled on the armchair. Slayer riding him, that luscious blond hair falling all around him, her pert breasts in his face, in his mouth. His hands on her hips, her hands braced on his shoulders, holding on while he surged up inside her. He wretched his attention back to the matter at hand. "Watcher, I hope your prophecy has some light to shed."

The man stared back at him, hostile and confused. Jesus Christ, he didn't have a clue. "Shouldn't you be in full research mode figurin' a way to snap this little psychic hotline? What's everyone lounging around for? Snap snap people!"

Buffy said his name, annoyed, exasperated, and it had never sounded so good. Her voice zoomed his focus right back on her. He let his eyes travel from the toes of his slayer to her eyes with deliberate slowness. Her breathing went erratic and she huffed over and sat next to the whelp on the couch. Did she always prance around in her pajamas in front of the boy? His demon was screaming. The boy was entirely too close to her and he wasn't close enough. If that ponce touched her he would snap his neck.

"You are referring to this odd connection between Buffy and yourself? You can feel it too then?" Damnation the old man sounded… excited! Fuck it all! He felt a surge of affection for the old man and wanted to run out screaming into the night. He was channeling her loyalties, her feelings. The level of invasiveness of this evil connection went far deeper than the lust pulsing and receding through him, as relentless as the tide.

Buffy twisted her hands in her lap and tossed her hair a bit, exposing her pale neck and his mark, his bite, stood out in stark relief. He couldn't repress the low growl that rose in his throat as fierce possessiveness swept through his body.

Bloody hell, he owned a slayer.

He could still taste her blood on his tongue, all that power rushing around in her hot little veins. Even now, a full day later he still felt invincible. Full of energy, wild and uncontrollable. She realized what had gained his attention and pulled her hair back over the bite, nine shades of scarlet. Too late, he knew it was there.

"This is a completely unacceptable turn of affairs," the watcher went on with a little more dignity and Spike couldn't help but smirk at the man. Deflating a puffed up British ego was a personal special pleasure for Spike. "I need to know what you have done to my slayer so it can be rectified."

_My Slayer._ Spike knew he was being irrational even as everything in him twisted with rage at someone else even hinting a claim on his girl. Buffy was _His Slayer_. Spike clenched his hands and forced his violence down into a tight little ball of fury in his stomach. He reminded himself that he didn't even want her. All for nothing, before he could calm himself he was snarling the truth.

"She's my slayer now," he whispered fiercely, between clenched teeth.

The room erupted in chaos as each voice clamored to be heard, each protesting the same thing. He wanted to blood them all, teach them. Just as he was about to lose it and decisively declare his dominance, she was there. A calming balm of physical touch that started warm on his forearms where she had grasped him and spread like liquid gold through his whole body. He hadn't realized just how tightly wound he was until relief swept over him.

She was close enough to bite again. Her round, firm ass just a twitch away from his fingers, only her hands twisted behind her to grasp him were holding them apart. He swayed into her, almost drunkenly, to inhale the now familiar scent of her hair.

"This isn't helping," she said firmly, loud enough to cut across the hysterical chatter from her friends. "I don't think Spike did this and we need to figure it out quickly. I can feel this thing settling deeper, taking root. We need to reverse it now!"

"Sooner would be better," he found himself agreeing. Unable to keep the husky desire from his voice as he inched closer to her, soaking up her presence and her touch. Unnerved enough to volunteer more information when he knew he ought to keep as much to himself as possible, maintain what little edge he had. "Usually this sort of thing is permanent."

"Permanent," the messy one hissed, coming to his feet, fury writ across every feature. He'd rarely seen such undisguised hatred in a human. Furious little pup, wasn't he? The boy drew a stake out of his pocket, slow and angry, his knuckles white from the tightness of his grip. "I know how we usually deal with vampire type problems. A little stake-age and we can vacuum up this problem, permanently."

"Xander, sit down!" Buffy's voice cracked like a whip in the startled air. Her hands had tightened on him to the point of pain and he could feel her anger at the boy pulsing through the link. He turned his head, breathing in her scent, and delighted in the skip of awareness that pulsed through her as she was reminded just how close he was to her neck. As well as a healthy dose of confusion and frustration. Why should she care about a death threat to his person? She did though, just like he cared.

"I said sit down, no one is going to dust Spike," her voice was calmer, firm with assurance. He had calmed down enough that she released him and his wrists felt twice as cold without her hands wrapped around them. Spike tried to focus on anything besides closing the distance between them and settled for shooting his smuggest smile at the boy, enjoying the open confusion on his face. Little spit fire she was. Her rage was delicious but he couldn't help but notice that her usual witty quips and comments were gone. Her speech was stark and spare and very un-Buffy. She was too busy fighting her body to make with the funnies and the boy was obviously un-nerved by it.

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath and tried to center himself. He needed to get a grip. Smelling her, shagging her, keeping her, none of that was why he was here. He was here to get the watcher to take a gander at the spell Dru had cobbled together to get some insight. The man was nothing less than brilliant, had the entire council for resources, and even a resident witch at his disposal. They should be able to get this whole thing reversed in a matter of tick tocks. No problem.

"This is outside the normal order of things," he said calmly, pulling Dru's spell book out of his coat. "Magic caused it, so maybe magic can dissolve it."

He flipped through the book, deliberately slow and unhurried, amused by the way the old man's gaze was riveted on the pages. He found the spell and perused it again, despite the fact he'd already read it a dozen times. Just to draw things out. He didn't want to keep the slayer. He had no reason to want to beat the lot of them into submission, to make them acknowledge his claim on her.

He wanted their help. He needed to keep that thought fore in his brain or this whole thing could go sideways real quick. He'd never get back to Dru. God, Dru. He could barely spare a thought for his dark princess, he was so wrapped up in Buffy, the slayer. She was the slayer. Not his slayer, and not his Buffy. Just another slayer.

He held the book out to the watcher, a peace offering, and the old man snatched it away, unable to contain his excitement. "Spell's in Latin and pretty straight forward. The runes are Celtic and I've no bleedin' clue what they suss out to be. Those scrawls from Drusilla could be anything from doodles to portents from her visions. You got a copy of that prophecy the slayer was blathering on about?"

"At my apartment," the Brit replied absently, eyes quickly scanning the spell.

"You speak Latin?" The little strawberry girl, what was her name? A tree… Willow. Anyhow, she had the sweetest little voice that piped up a notch when she was excited. Common ground he supposed made her more comfortable.

"Some," he replied warily. He actually spoke a few languages, he'd been walking the earth a long time. But he didn't tell her that, she might pounce on him, thinking she found a kindred spirit or something. The witch's power was intoxicating, but she struck him as sort of clingy.

He turned his back and walked to the window, twitching the heavy curtains to peer into the street. Having his girl out of his line of vision did not help. He was acutely aware of the feel of carpet on her bare feet as she padded back to the couch. The heavy sway of her hair as it brushed her back. The pool of desire low down in her knickers. Willow reached out and touched the slayer's knee and leaned over to whisper to her. Asking if she was alright. Every word clearly audible with his vampiric hearing.

His slayer must not have eaten because her stomach was empty and she was feeling pains of hunger. Why hadn't these people fed her? Didn't they know that a powerhouse like Buffy needed more than righteous indignation to function? She'd suffered extreme bloodless and neck trauma. She needed calories and protein. She was nauseous with low blood sugar. Couldn't they see how pale she was? That child was sitting closer to his slayer now with his leg pressed up against her leg. Those damn pajamas were entirely too thin for her to be touching him.

Silently snarling to himself, he turned and stalked into the kitchen. That insolent puppy was lucky the slayer was there to protect him. It was dinner time for the mortal's, but his slayer had just woken. Slept all day she did. He took off his duster and laid it over a chair, then he rummaged around in the fridge finding eggs and a red pepper and ham. He rummaged through the cupboards finding other ingredients and slapped a pan on the stove.

He found a knife and began to chop ingredients. The island was a little high but the countertop would suit them. With him standing between her thighs, her head thrown back, her hair spilled on the countertop, her smooth tanned legs around his waist, tilting her just right. Fuck. Bloody fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to stop this obsessing.

Wasn't like he hadn't fantasized about shagging the slayer before. Mortal enemy, powerful and sexy. She had no fear of him. Kinda like you think about shagging your teacher or your boss. But this all-out lust was different. He could barely think of anything but how he could have her. His demon was downright howling in his head.

The worst part was that he knew just five minutes with her would quiet this raging heat through his body. His demon would be satisfied and he could relax.

No regular cream, he'd have to use sour cream. Wasn't he a bleedin' ponce, in here cooking for the bloody slayer? He tossed butter in the pan and put on the potatoes, and rummaged around for another pan, finding a bottle of red wine in the back of a well-stocked cupboard. That would be good on the potatoes. She needed to eat, and he needed to care for her. It was as simple as his need for blood. A Compulsion.

That watcher better be busy scaring up a counter spell for them. Dru would be up by now, wondering what the hell had gone wrong. Had she seen that he had been the one to stop her spell? All teamed up with the slayer, again. Would she remember the half-awake conversation they'd had? What had she said? That they had tied strings to him…something about spilled milk…did that mean that there was no going back? If Dru had seen this whole thing going belly up in a vison and gone ahead with this barmy plan he was going to be furious with her.

Either way she was going to smell the slayer on him. There was going to be hell to pay. Ahh, the smell of the slayer. He could still smell her in here, an old smell from days past and the smell of her coming through the door. It was nothing compared to having her in his arms last night, he had about drowned in her scent. Jasmine and vanilla and woman. He needed to be that close to her again. The kitchen table would work just as well as the counter.

He flipped the omelet, popped down toast and pulled himself up to sit on the counter and buried his head in his hands. He couldn't stop fantasizing about how to shag her and she was probably trying to decide how best to dust him right now.

Good thing he had slayer blood coursing through him and really didn't need to feed tonight, he could just imagine how well that would go over… _"S'cuse me luv, but I've got to pop out for a few and scrounge up some college co-ed for a little snack. Feelin' a bit peckish."_

He reached over and stirred the potatoes and fished a plate out from behind him.

He hopped off the counter and transferred the omelet to the plate, buttered the toast and went in search of silverware. Where would mortals keep a fork? Maybe in one of the drawers? Found them. He scooped the potatoes on the plate, took a deep breath and shifted the bulge in his pants. Sucker was beginning to get uncomfortable. Should he just go ahead and wank off in here? He should have done that before. If he wasted the time now, the slayer's food would get cold. He had a feeling it wouldn't do him a bit of good anyhow.

* * *

What on earth was he doing in there? Slamming around what sounded like pots and pans, and the fridge had opened at least six times. Maybe she should go in there. She was starving; she could make a sandwich and check on him. But the thought of being alone with him made her blood run cold. She would probably lose control and throw him on the floor and have her way with him.

Not that he would mind, based on the emotions she was getting from him. And the way he kept looking at her. His casual, devil-may-care attitude was compromised. He was as stressed as she was. He couldn't quite pull off his usual air of nonchalance. No, it was best to keep her friends between them until this spell thingy was an unpleasant memory.

She wondered if her friends had seen the way that she couldn't take her eyes off of him? How she had watched every move he made, every expression on his face. And she thanked God she couldn't read his mind every time he looked at her, because she was sure that his thoughts were much nastier than hers. If Giles hadn't been watching, she probably would have let him "take care of her" right on the porch.

That was the really freaky thing, because he should be giving her a harder time. Riding her ass about her wanting him, he wouldn't care who was listening. But she could feel his concern for her. She could deal with the overwhelming desire, he was a vampire... he'd sleep with anything. But the concern, the protectiveness, and jealousy was scary. Just who was he jealous of anyway? Those emotions crossed the line.

When he had seen her bite mark, still raw and red, she swore her heart had skipped a dozen beats from the swamping wave of possessiveness that had flooded over, drowning out every feeling and thought of her own. The power of it was bad enough, but what scared her the most was that she had liked it. She felt almost like she belonged to him and he belonged to her and for that moment when his eyes met hers, it had been the most natural feeling in the world. Just for a moment she was completely content. That was more frightening than any demon or monster she had ever faced.

She was really having trouble thinking. Her sexual desire did not slack off when Spike left the room. If anything, his absence made the feelings she was having more intense. Even that would be bearable if she could just think straight, but her head was a mess. She couldn't hold on to her thoughts, they kept slipping away from her and pushing her back towards sex with Spike. It was almost like she was drunk, only ten times worse, and much hornier.

Maybe she could just go into the bathroom for a minute, or go upstairs and change her clothes. Clear her head from this lust and then she could get something to eat. She shifted in her seat and was about to get up, she couldn't stay in her pajama's all day anyway, when Spike came sweeping back into the room.

With a plate of food.

And gave it to her.

He sauntered to the window and peered out again. Her eyes followed him and then dropped to her plate. An omelet and some potato square thingies and toast. Xander, Willow and even Giles were all watching her. Even Xander was rendered speechless. Spike had cooked, for her. She shrugged, picked up her fork and cut into her omelet. She was starving and it was just a little too elaborate of a way for him to kill her.

Flavor exploded onto her tongue. She had expected something like you would get at Perkins's, but this was amazing. This could quite possibly be the best thing she had ever tasted. She had eaten three bites before she could spare a minute to talk. "Spike, where did you learn to cook like this? This is so good." She held out a fork full for Willow who leaned in and opened.

"Oh, Spike she's right, this is nummy goodness."

Spike ignored them pointedly and he reached out and shoved the window open. Then he fished his cigarettes out of his jean pocket and lit a smoke. He didn't have his duster on again. This was twice now that she had seen him without it. She didn't like it. The heavy coat seemed almost a piece of his persona. Without it he looked more like a man than a vampire. Like she was seeing another side to him. She didn't need to see another side. She needed to keep the vampire side front and center in her mind at all times.

The potatoes were really good too; they had some odd spicy taste to them that was delicious. She was almost disappointed that her toast was just regular toast. She absently watched the muscles play across his back as he smoked; Willow and Xander resumed talking in a low tone so as not to disturb Giles who was in full watcher mode, still perched in the armchair reading. That duster hid a rather fantastic backside. She'd sparred with him enough to know his muscles intimately but she'd never been overwhelmed with the urge to squeeze them.

She finished every bite, grateful for the distraction from her disturbing Spike cravings, and got up to take her plate in the kitchen. She could feel Spike watch her walk away and it gave her shivers up and down her spine. She tried not to sway her hips too much.

Buffy rinsed her plate and stared into the sink, trying to get herself under control enough to go back in the living room. He was silent as the grave when he entered the kitchen, but she felt him behind her.

Her body hummed when he put his hand at her waist, strong fingers flexing. She ought to elbow him. She ought to turn and punch him as hard as she could. She felt cool breath on her ear. Her body tingled knowing he was millimeters from being pressed up against her.

"You smell like vanilla and sex," he whispered and his thumb moved in a lazy circle, brushing bare skin. She couldn't help her body's shiver. She felt soft lips on her neck and sprung away like a startled doe. Only with less grace because she slammed into the sink and then backed away along the counter.

"What are you doing?" She hated the way her voice sounded, breathless and girly and weak. She was the slayer, a strong and independent woman, she should not be intimidated. Heaven help her, she wanted him to touch her again. But he didn't come after her.

"S'ok. Slayer. It's the mating, wasn't done properly. When we finish it, my demon will calm and we'll have clear heads," his voice was low and soothing. He was using the link to calm her she realized, her hand going to her neck where she could still feel an imprint of his lips on her. Her fingers felt super sensitized as she brushed the spot he had touched her. She didn't like him playing with her emotions one bit! Anger flared and that was good, because she knew how to fight with him, she'd done it many times. Anger she was familiar with.

"What are you talking about?" Good, her voice came out strong and sharp, the way a slayer should sound. He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes were so blue, and now she knew just how soft his lips were. Oh God, she could have gone her whole life without knowing that piece of information. He took a step towards her and she felt her anger waning. She tried desperately to hold on to it but it was slipping under the spell of lust and desire that she couldn't fight.

Oh, this was so bad, he was coming closer, and she wasn't backing away the way she should be. Suddenly his posture changed, the predatory gleam in his eye fading as he turned his head sharply to look at the door. Oh thank God, Giles was coming in the kitchen!

Giles had the rather small book that Spike had brought clutched to his chest. "We need to go to my apartment; all my books are there."

"Ok!" Her voice was entirely too chipper and she knew that her face was scarlet. Who cared! The important thing was that she was saved! From herself. She needed saving from herself. This was so of the bad. She dashed past Spike into the living room and up the stairs. Throwing on jeans and a loose top in record speed. She dashed back down and grabbed her coat.

Xander held the door for her and Willow and they went out. Xander got in the backseat passenger side and Buffy started to get in the front, but hesitated. That would leave Willow to sit next to Spike, not good. So she slipped in the middle and patted the seat next to her for Wills. It was just because Willow was afraid of Spike, in no way did she care if Spike sat next to another woman. Nope, no Siree Bob. Spike had the nerve to smirk at her when he followed Giles out of the house, sleek leather back in place, closing the door behind him like a gentleman instead of a vampire.

The fifteen minute drive was surreal. The night was too bright and the air too sharp and her Vampire too close. She ruined her shirt twisting the bottom between restless fingers to keep from touching him. The silence pressed in on all of them only broken by Giles snapping that there was no smoking in the car when Mr. Chainsmoker was reaching for another cancer stick.

Spike made no move to come in with them, instead leaning up against the care and pulling out his cigarettes again. It was okay, she knew he wasn't going anywhere. Buffy very carefully did not look back as she followed the gang inside.

"I don't see why we don't just dust the bleached menace. I mean, why are we keeping him alive? We don't need him anymore. Stake him and we cure this Jedi link thing." Xander spit out the minute they were inside. He had worked himself up into a good frothy fury and Buffy really wanted to care. She just couldn't spare the energy. Giles strode over and began to pull books off the shelves. Willow sat at the table and plugged in her laptop. All so normal while Buffy stood in the middle of a hurricane of emotion that couldn't begin to be sorted.

"And just how do you think that will affect Buffy?" Her Watcher replied absently.

"I don't know..." Xander began and Giles pinned him with a glare.

"Exactly. Until we know more Spike will be kept safe as a baby in a playpen. Do I make myself clear?"

Buffy perched on the end of the sofa, her knees literally gone weak, and Xander plopped down next to Willow. She carefully adjusted her hair to make sure her bite mark didn't show. With her slayer healing it already didn't hurt anymore but looking at it would probably set Xander off again, and she didn't like the way that Spike reacted to it. He was coming towards them and Buffy took small comfort in the knowledge that at least he wouldn't be able to sneak up on her.

"Jeez, is it pick on Xander day or what?" Xander groused and Willow smiled at him. Spike didn't bother to knock he just walked in and began to pace restlessly. Getting more and more agitated with each step. The desire to touch him was overwhelming. If she could just run her fingers through his hair, touch his shoulders, wrap her arms around him just the way that she had last night, then everything would be better. She knew it. Buffy gripped the front of the couch and concentrated hard on the soothing breathing exercises that Giles had taught her.

"Spike," Giles began, he held a book open in front of him and began to pace as well. "Buffy said she could physically feel you and your feelings. Is that mutual?"

"Yeah," He sighed out, clearly frustrated. "It's pretty intense." Giles nodded, and made a go on type of gesture. "It sort of feels like the Sire bond amplified by a million. It's visceral. It's primal."

That was exactly how she felt. Primal. Stripped down to her base emotions and instincts. None of those instincts were correct, since most of them seemed to revolve around climbing the nearest vampire like a tree, but they were powerful.

"I've been through the spell you indicated, there is nothing about causing a psychic link. The whole casting doesn't make sense. This base spell seems to revolve around warriors communing. Magnifying the soul's power. You don't even have a soul. There is nothing I can see right off in this spell that should have an effect like this." Spike's pacing became more rapid and she could feel his body calling to her. He was perhaps even more tightly strung then she was, constantly glancing at her and looking away. "Perchance this is unrelated to the spell? Maybe you've accidently created a sire's bond with her? Could your blood have splashed on her, blended with her in anyway?"

"I told you, it's the sodding spell!" Spike snarled, twisting around towards her Watcher with evil intent and Buffy tensed, ready to close the distance between them if need be. His face flickered to his vampire visage and away so quickly Buffy almost thought she missed it. "This isn't even in the same realm as the sire's bond. Besides, that only happens when you share your demon long enough to Sire. It's just a weak link. This is crushing, mind bending, magic. Just work it backward and do a counter-spell!"

He was getting ramped up and she wondered if she would have to touch him again to wind him down. "So, Vampire's don't sire in order to create these bonds? You don't seek it out?"

"Ha!" He threw his head back and Buffy almost vibrated with his irritation. "Hardly. S'why there aren't more Vampires. Smart to be choosy who you share your demon with for all eternity. Most Vampires stick to simple claims, like when Angel claimed Buffy, minimal side effects." He looked over again and his heated glance was like a physical caress over her burning skin. She bit her lip to keep in a moan at the sensation and he turned away, making his way from one end of the room to the other, his pacing increasing with his agitation. God that Strut was so sexy.

"Wait, Angel claimed me? When did that happen? What does that mean?" Spike slowed down again and Buffy realized with a shock that her voice had calmed him somewhat. She shook with the knowledge that she had so much power over him, well aware that he had an equal amount of power over her. The realization was intoxicating and frightening at the same time. Her emotions were so all over the place that she felt pulled like taffy. He gave her one of his wry smiles, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"When he bit you, Slayer, that was a stamp of ownership. A Claim. We could see his essence on you, knew that you belonged to him." Buffy welcomed the outrage that poured over her at the very thought. It was a welcome distraction from her lusty thoughts. She belonged to no one.

She jumped to her feet, her hands clenched, her body strung tight. How dare he! She was seriously trying to figure out the quickest way to LA to rip Angel a new one. Owned her! Why hadn't he told her about this? Keeping secrets, making decisions for her! Her temper was rising rapidly and the urge to hit something was not soothed by Spike's restlessness.

Suddenly Spike was in front of her, touching her. His hands slid down her arms and her anger evaporated immediately. She couldn't think of anything but how good his touch felt. The world shrank to just the two of them. Her knees gave out and she sank back into the couch. He followed her down, sinking to his knees, his hands sliding to her hips, and he buried his head in her lap.

With his touch, her world evened out. The pulsing in her head slowed and suddenly she could think much clearer. The throbbing arousal between her hips banged like a drum, but could not detract from the feeling of calm. She felt almost at peace. His hands flexed on her hips and he turned his head, nuzzling. Lord, that felt good. Buffy just couldn't help herself, she ran one hand lazily through his hair mussing his surprisingly soft locks, little curls springing out in her wake. She caressed his shoulder and couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction at his shuddering reaction to her simple touch.

Reality intruded rude and loud, and just as quickly as it had formed, their little private bubble burst.

Xander had surged to his feet in outrage, Willow gaped like a fish and even Giles opened his mouth and then closed it, unable to think of what to say at the sight of the two of them...cuddling? Spike started to move away from her but she clutched convulsively at his shoulders, unable to let him go. He looked up at her; his clear crystal blue eyes were like pools of desire, his features sharp with wanting.

She patted the couch next to her and he crawled up next to her like a panther. He stretched his body out lengthwise on the coach, pillowing his head in her lap again and snaking his arm behind her. He rested the other large hand possessively on her thigh under his head. Buffy couldn't help the little sigh of contentment that rolled out of her lips, and she trembled at the feel of soft worn leather as she ran her hand along the breadth of his shoulders and down to the small of his back.

Giles recovered first. "Is any bite a claim or does it have to be deliberate?" His voice was carefully neutral and he didn't quite look at them.

Spike turned his head so he could look at her watcher. She felt him tense slightly under her hand and automatically began to rub soothing circles. She stopped when the hand behind her back slipped under her shirt and his thumb began to mimic her movements. But he didn't stop, and God!

"Hello! Buffy! Evil undead in your Lap! Kick him in his head, Stake Him!" Xander cried, so upset his voice had gone high-pitched and panicked and she thought his eyes might burst from their sockets. She really ought to be doing just as he said. She knew that, she did. But Spike's long clever fingers were touching her bare skin and his breath was on her hips and his muscles were relaxed under her hands. She had zero willpower to move or care.

Willow grabbed Xander by the arm and led him into the other room. She could hear them talking in low tones in the hall, but thankfully did not have to reply because she had no idea what she was supposed to say to explain this. There were no words for how this felt.

"It's deliberate. Leave's an essence behind. An aura. Got to seal the mark with your blood, usually a fang to the tongue will do it," her Vampire's voice was low and content. She could spend all day just listening to his voice, his accent so unfamiliar and sexy. It was the way he drew his words out. Each syllable was a caress on her senses. "I just bit her. A lovely bite to be sure, but just physical. Nothing mystical about it."

His hand flexed on her back again so just his fingertips were touching her and trailed lazy circles. Her whole body was attuned to those small movements. She tried to pull her thoughts together, string them into coherent words. She felt like she was taking in more air than she was letting out and her poor lip was probably mangled she was chewing on it so hard.

Giles whipped off his glasses and began to polish them; Spike talking about casually biting her had to sting. The echo of sensation, the memory of the pull and sway and power of that bite, had her tingling from head to toe. How could Spike be so calm? He lay on her lap without a care in the world. She began to play with his hair, it was fun to muss it and he didn't seem to mind. "So, you are certain this bond was caused by something outside of yourselves. The spell, or the runes perhaps?"

"Well it must have been hmm, 'cause here we are." Completely unruffled, she could feel contentment rolling off of him. "My demon isn't too happy with the way things worked out though."

Giles replaced his glasses and the arguing from the other room got louder. "Yes, I can imagine you are not too happy with being linked at a base level with the Slayer of all people; we will find a way to work this out of course."

"You misunderstand, Watcher. Demon doesn't give a damn who the girl is, this thing is incomplete. There's been no... base linking."

Xander and Willow walked in the room at just that moment. With a mind of its own her hand rose and popped Spike on the back of his head. He turned his head to glare at her, but didn't move. Then he snuggled back into her lap. She just about swallowed her tongue trying to keep quiet. On the positive side, Xander certainly looked happier to have seen her do at least some damage to Spike.

Finally, she managed to track down the thought that had been eluding her. She pounced on it ruthlessly and forced it out into words. "You said something about mating in the kitchen?"

She felt her face grow warmer as she realized the way those words sounded out of context. "I mean you called it a mating, the bond, in the kitchen. You said the word 'mate'. I don't mean to mate. I mean, like a description not an action. He wasn't suggesting we, I mean, Oh God," she sputtered to a stop, realizing she was just making it worse and closed her eyes against the horrified stares of her friends. The disturbed silence stretched a full minute before Giles finally took pity on her.

"Well then, Right, Yes. Buffy it's getting late, why don't you do a quick sweep and we'll meet back here in a couple of hours. Xander and Willow can help with the research and Spike too, if he doesn't mind."

Was Giles flustered? That was adorable.

Spike sat up abruptly and her lap seemed forlorn and empty. She sat on her hands so that she didn't pull him back close to her. "Uh, that's probably not such a good idea, Watcher."

"Spike, Buffy must patrol, it's her job."

"Any demon who sees her is going to know about this!" Spike sprung up and began to pace. "Bloody hell, it's like a big neon sign that shouts 'OWNED BY SPIKE'. We've got to fix this before she goes out. I'm going to be laying low somewhere too. I don't even want to think what this would do to my reputation. Not to mention her reputation. Jesus Christ."

Buffy jumped up too. "Owned by Spike? Owned by Spike! No one owns me Spike. So you can get that loopy idea out of your bleached brain!"

"Hey, you think I like having 'Buffy the Goddamned Vampire Slayer's Property' on my fucking forehead? Works two ways, bitch!"

"Alright, let's calm down. Perhaps you should skip patrol just for tonight. Truthfully there really isn't anything that you can do tonight. I guess the big question is what do we do with Spike?" They stood about four feet apart. Her hands were on her hips and his head was cocked to the side. 'Owned her', he was gonna sing another tune when she ripped his arms clean off and beat him in the head with them.


	6. Guilty Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is about to earn it's mature rating. IF you are disturbed by graphic depcitions of sexual acts than this chapter is not for you. Please indulge accordingly. :)
> 
> Author Note: A shout out to the lovely kbeautimous who helped me by beta reading this chapter. A lovely job and I so look forward to her help in the future!

**Guilty Pleasure**

Giles words finally penetrated Spike's head and he whipped around to look at him. "What do you mean Watcher? I don't need minding!" He sneered at Buffy. "When you decide you're ready for me the Slayer here can just yank my chain like she did earlier."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy couldn't control the level of her voice. Of course that eyebrow shot up and he turned to her, taking a step in her direction. Buffy refused to take a step back. Despite the craziness she was feeling he was still just a Vampire and she wasn't backing away from a Vampire. Maybe she should just slay him. She ignored the gut wrenching pain that accompanied that thought and gave Spike her best glare.

"Don't play innocent little girl. I about gnawed my bleedin' arm off waiting for the sun to go down!"

"Gross! And I didn't do anything but wake up with you in my head!" He took another step closer and suddenly he looked...intimate. His voice lowered to that soft rumble he had used in the kitchen sending new shivers racing down her spine. Oh, this was so very very bad.

"I could feel how much you needed me Slayer, just like I can feel how much you need me now." Buffy's eyes darted to Giles, he looked annoyed but not as if he had picked up on the double meaning. She must have looked desperate because he stepped closer as well.

"Spike you said yourself that you would be keeping a low profile. We can't have you running loose until we have figured out how best to solve this problem. It would be best if you spent today with Buffy, you can sleep in her basement."

"What!" Buffy winced at how high pitched her voice came out. It was almost an undignified squeak. She was a Slayer, not a squeaker. Grasping at her frayed composure she grabbed Giles and dragged him to the side of the room.

"Giles, I can't take him home with me. Why can't he stay here?" It was Giles turn to look astonished.

"Buffy, you want me to keep a known killer with one hundred times my strength on my couch?" Her mouth opened and closed. "He'll kill me the minute you go out the door and drink all my scotch."

They glanced at Spike. He stared at back at them, that stubborn mulish expression stamped on his features, not even trying to pretend he couldn't hear every word they said. She felt his irritation like an itch under her skin, well aware that his scowl barely skimmed the surface of how twisted up he was.

"That rules Xander and Willow out as well, your mom's not supposed to be back from New York until Tuesday and we will have fixed the situation by then and he will be out of your hair, or dust. Really Buffy, you seemed very comfortable with him a moment ago."

Buffy sputtered angrily and stomped her foot. She knew her face was bright red. She shouldn't have let him touch her; she should have kicked him in the head. Their little session on the couch had gone a long way towards calming her body and clearing her head, but she could already feel the spell winding up again.

Already the restless edge was bleeding over onto her every nerve. "Touching calms him down, would you rather I throw down with him here in the living room to keep him from ripping Xander's head off?" Spike snorted and moved back to the window.

"Don't blame your cuddle session with the undead on me missy, you're the one who has sympathy for corpses!" Xander and Willow had joined the huddle. A low growl came from Spike and Xander's head whipped up, eyes wide and mouth pinched in fury. But Spike was still looking out the window.

"It was not a cuddle session." Buffy snarled, drawing Xander's attention back on her. She felt soft soothing feelings coming through the bond and gave Spike the darkest look she could muster. It was wasted; he didn't bother to look back at her. He could take that amusement he was feeling and stuff it.

"And I told you, I feel all connected to him. But it's not because I have sympathy for the dead. I dust Vamps every day; it's just this weird spell thingy. I don't want him in my house, he'll kill me in my sleep."

She gave Spike another look from hell, which he ignored and dragged Giles in the kitchen. Maybe he wouldn't be able to hear everything. There was no way she was bringing home a horny Vampire. They would just have to think of somewhere else to keep him.

 

* * *

 

The little Witch suddenly realized that there was no Buffy between her and the evil Vampire and darted into the kitchen. Spike turned and watched as the boy's eyes followed her. He even took a step in that direction but then realized that wouldn't be the manliest thing to do and stayed put, as if he couldn't smell the fear all over the boy. No Slayer, time to teach this Whelp a little respect.

"So..." The kid started and Spike darted across the room with all his speed. Almost gently he lifted him by the neck and pushed him into the wall. Boy might not even bruise. "Ahh" He had to give him props for not screaming like a girl. He clawed at his hand desperately and kicked out, but didn't call out. Brave fool.

"You are upsetting my Slayer, I don't like it." He about dropped the cub when he heard himself. _My Slayer._ Instead he narrowed his eyes and let out a low threatening growl. "Understand?" The child squeaked out something that might have been an affirmative and Spike let him go.

He dropped the foot to the floor and gasped for air like a fish. Please, Spike hadn't even cut off his air supply. His Slayer said something about chains in the other room and he let loose another annoyed growl. The boy must have thought this last was directed at him because he gave him a dirty look, brave little thing that he was, and scrambled his way off the floor and into the kitchen.

He shuddered when he thought about the little scene on the couch. He had always been impulsive that way. He had touched her and couldn't stop. Fuck it, he was a Vampire and loved it. He took what he bloody wanted, and right now he wanted the Slayer and it didn't matter why. Her body was hot like a furnace and her blood sang to him.

Her sweet little lap all small and soft, her little shivers and goosebumps that she tried to hide. The skin on her back was all smooth and silky and it made his body hum just to think about sweeping his hands over the rest of her. She had worked herself up into a right tizzy, didn't like having that type of response to him, but didn't change that it had happened.

Might not be such a bad thing to go home with her, have her to himself for a couple hours, get the physical stuff out of the way so he could think straight. His demon was raging non stop and he let it come forward for a moment. Just to relieve his tension.

His senses sharpened dramatically and he could hear every word in the kitchen distinctly. "Buffy, be reasonable. I wouldn't ask you to watch him if I didn't think it was necessary, and I don't think he would even agree to stay with any of us."

"We'll chain him up!"

"Buffy, he's vampire fast, catching him would destroy my apartment, not to mention the only place that might hold him would be my bathtub. Where do you propose we get chains this time of night?"

Spike chuckled and stretched. He was even more jittery than usual what with the mating bond not complete. His demon wasn't going to let it rest. He liked the Watcher, if he was younger he would have considered turning him. Right fearless he was. "Fine!" His slayer hissed, "But don't blame me when I'm a Spike snack box!"

Ridiculous excuse it was, anyone could see he had no intention of hurtin' her. She stomped out of the kitchen and he shoved his demon away before he turned to face her.

Her mates followed her out and the boy gave him a dirty look. All righteous fury she was, eyes sparkling and limbs warm with blood. Like when they fought. He loved sparing with her, the soft thwack of flesh against flesh, scent of blood in the air, challenging eyes and words and looks.

A good tussle she was, it was almost like dancing...only far more deadly. His eyes narrowed on the group piling out of the kitchen. He'd have killed her already if it wasn't for her Poncey little friends getting in his way.

The smart thing to do would be to take the lot of them out, one at a time. The Watcher would probably be his first target, then Xander, just to get him out of the way. Perhaps he would turn the Witch without her permission. Risky that.

But he couldn't kill her now, he'd rather saw off his left leg. And her friends were safe as houses. Bloody Hell, they needed fix this. It wasn't right, all these warm fuzzies for the Slayer. His own bleedin' fault for going to her in the first place, but she had helped him out before and he hadn't known what else to do. Right boring the world would be without people. More than any other thing Spike couldn't abide boring.

Then she had offered him her blood. Tilting her sweet soft neck, giving him access. He wondered what would have happened if he had just drained her dry. He had thought about it, but there had been some ominous feeling deep in his gut saying it wasn't a good idea. And Spike always went with his gut. Would those runes have just killed him?

"I'll give you all a ride home." The Watcher stated picking up his keys, his eyes darting to Spike to see if he would protest.

Spike rocked back on his heels and took an unnecessary breath. "I've got my Desoto stashed around the block."

"Fine," The slayer barked and grabbed her brown leather jacket. He liked his Slayer in leather, pure innocence she was, wrapped in badness. Maybe he'd get her a black one, or some leather pants that rode low on her hips. Or one of those wicked looking chokers to wrap around her neck.

Jesus, he was a ponce, wasn't going to be around long enough to steal her things, bring her trinkets. She wasn't Dru. "You heard every word, didn't you?"

He gave her the once over. "Didn't know you were so into bondage pet." She made some sort of high pitched, seething sound of frustration and slammed out the door. He shrugged and followed her. She was storming off in the wrong direction. He closed the door softly and called out. "Whirling off the wrong way luv, car's this way."

She fell into step with him and he resisted the urge to touch her. It was worse now that he'd had his hands on her, felt her surrender so easily to his touch. His power over her was intoxicating, but it could wait. "You're still living with your mum? Thought you were a college co-ed now."

"I stay home a lot of nights, especially on the weekends, Slaying you know." They turned the corner and approached his car. Her nose wrinkled up "It's not stolen is it? How can you see out of it? The windows are all black."

"I stole it years ago Slayer; doubt there's an all points out on the bleedin' thing." He was beginning to get annoyed. There wasn't anything wrong with his fucking car; she didn't need to act like such a fucking princess. "Don't know why you're so dainty all the sudden, you're the bloody slayer!"

He opened the door and she just stood there. "It's clean, Slayer." She frowned but she got in. He slammed the door behind her, walked around the car while digging out his keys, and got in. He threw it into drive and took off.

Had to be careful of bloody people, his girl would get all brassed off if he hit one. He cracked the window before he lit a smoke. Not that she'd live long enough to get cancer; he just didn't want to listen to her hack her lungs out in his car. He was never going to get the smell of slayer out. Dru was going to howl.

"You need to leave Willow alone, what's with you being all polite to her anyway?" She spoke up. Jealousy, harsh and sharp through the bond, stabbed at him. She knew he wanted the little strawberry. If only for her magic. He'd admit that her shyness would be fun in the sheets, shocking her, teaching her. His job if he were her sire. That wasn't the reason he had been making nice with the girl though.

"She'd make a great Vampire. Can't really turn her without her permission." Buffy let out an outraged little sound. Despite his fag and the crack in the window, her scent was very strong in this enclosed space. He had to consciously loosen his hands before he damaged his steering wheel.

The magic was ramping up between them again at a pretty sharp angle and he wasn't sure how long he could keep his hands to himself. He was acutely aware that he was alone with her and that there was only a worn leather seat between them. If he thought her cloying scent was bad now he could just imagine how it would linger if he pulled over and made short work of those jeans.

The thought of her dripping on his seat as he fucked her in his car had his systems up and roaring to go. Her making that sound she just made as she arched and twisted underneath him trying to get enough leverage to take him deep.

"What! You touch Wills and I will dust you, do you understand? Business end of a stake." She flourished one for show. "What do you mean, permission? No one wants to be a Vampire Spike!" Spike sighed. Giving the kiddies quite an education tonight, wasn't he?

"We always kill Slayers, we don't turn them. It's a rule. Do you know why sweetheart? Cause think how powerful she'd be," They pulled into the drive and they got out of the car, Spike greedily pulling fresh air into his lungs. Trying to dampen the effect she was having on him.

They hadn't locked the door so Spike held it open for her. She gave him a look but swept in ahead of him anyway.

"Slayer's got a power of her own and who knows how that would mix with the demon? How it would affect the Sire bond? Same goes with witches and psychics. It's a risk turning them. If they agree to the change, less of a chance they'll be furious and go in for the kill first chance they get if the Sire bond doesn't take root the way it should."

She peeled off her jacket and he watched, fascinated as tawny skin was revealed. She looked so fragile. He knew she was not.

"Drusilla was psychic." She crossed into the kitchen and he followed her, unable to stop. Unable to do anything but get closer to her, no use in denying the inevitable. Still he held back, let her talk. She wrinkled her nose at the mess that he had made and got a glass off the shelf.

"Angelus shouldn't have turned her. S'why he made her insane, that an it was fun. But it could have gone either way, she could have hated 'im. Sometimes she does." He sprawled in a kitchen chair and Buffy poured some juice in her glass. She put it away before taking a small sip. She sat down on another chair, farthest one from him, but civilized like.

"Fun" Her voice was flat and emotionless and she took another drink of juice. "This Sire bond you keep going on about, it's like us?" She moved her hand in a small circle. He jerked his eyes away from her fingers and met her eyes. They reminded him of the ocean at night, deep green currents, and flecks of gold.

"No, s'not as strong. Just a weak awareness of your kin. Never felt any bleedin' thing like this Slayer." She looked away and then took another drink. He watched as the liquid slid down her throat. He couldn't speak until she lowered her glass to the table.

"But you can see what I mean. If you were soddin anyone else, you'd be in a puddle at my feet right now, with all that's swirling around inside you, but you've got that slayerness that makes you strong on the inside. So you fight it, tooth and nail."

She finished her juice and didn't comment. He thought about another smoke. Try to get some fresh air, take the edge off. He was likely to fuck her in half if he didn't get some measure of control. He was about to go out on the porch when she got up.

"I'll show you to the basement, and get you some blankets. I think we have a roll away cart down there." She looked at him. She was nervous, and she should be. Acting all prim and proper as if he couldn't feel the waves of carnal lust rolling off her like the surf. "You're probably not tired, but I am. You can watch television if you want." She got to her feet and he followed her into the other room.

 

* * *

 

Spike followed her. She was aware of his every move, every footfall precise and measured. She pulled open the cupboard in the hall and grabbed some blankets. She would have to give him a pillow out of her room but she didn't say so out loud. Didn't want to mention her bedroom.

"Or, you could sleep on the couch...I guess it would be more comfortable." She crossed to the living room and set the blankets on the couch. He was watching her from the hallway with hooded eyes. She met his gaze, he could probably sense her nervousness but she wasn't about to spell it out for him.

She had been perfectly clear, he was sleeping on the couch. She ought to retreat. Barricade herself in her room and force herself to sleep it off. She couldn't look away however. Looking directly at him doubled and tripled the effect he had on her and she was acutely aware of rock hard nipples and sensitive wet bits that ached and throbbed. She was going to walk away, any second, she was.

He started to move towards her, in that rolling cat like way of his, and she didn't even realize she was backing up until her back hit the wall. He was a prowler and he moved like one. She felt very much hunted. He leaned into her personal space and braced one arm above her head. "Spike, what are you doing?"

She wanted to call her voice back. That breathy soft seductive lilt was only an encouragement to him and she regretted it. She knew what he was doing. He was giving into instinct and they needed to fight this.

He tilted his head to the side and took a breath. "I want you Slayer." And then he kissed her. He demanded entrance to her mouth and she gasped for air as his presence seemed to rob her of her ability to breathe. His tongue darted in immediately and then he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She pushed hard on his shoulders to try to gain some distance but he gripped her waist with his hands and she lost her balance, falling into him. Falling into desire.

He let out a low groan and his hand slid down to cup her bottom, pulling her into his erection with no shame and she couldn't help but grind into it. Oh God, he could kiss, and he tasted so good.

She couldn't think and she couldn't breathe, all she could do was cling to him and kiss him back. Lips and tongues and hands and scent. All in one devastating package that had her twisting closer to him. This was so not of the good.

That panic that had engulfed her for hours faded into the background and all that existed was Spike. He overwhelmed her mind.

This is a spell.

She jerked her mouth away, trying to gain some semblance of control. He immediately bent his head to her neck and began to do wonderful things with his lips. He nibbled her collarbone and she lost all control over her knees.

He pressed her back into the wall for leverage, taking on most of her weight, hand sliding down her leg to her knee, pulling it up and over his hip, then he twisted his torso, and oh God.

She writhed against him mindlessly, her awareness coiling tightly down. The want in her pulsed with him, she was going to cum. Some wretched little moan found its way past her lips and she bucked her hips twice more, before she pushed against him hard with both her hands.

He stumbled a step back and looked shocked. What? No one ever said no after he got his hands on them? Ego Much? Well deserved ego. "Spike, I am not sleeping with you! You're a Vampire!" She may not be able to control her emotions or her body but she could control her head.

She didn't like the predatory smirk he wore. Her body was tingling all over, screaming for release. Who would have guessed that Spike knew how to kiss like that? She raised a trembling hand to her lips, swollen and sensitive.

His kiss had taken over her whole body, firm and demanding and passionate. Nibbling and tugging and exploring. His restless hands were never still. Roaming and touching with the same insistent overwhelming confidence.

She could feel an echo of his desire. Her own swamping need. Desire ebbing and flowing, as relentless as the tide. She felt unmoored without his hard body rocking into her, giving her what she needed. Now that he wasn't touching her the chaos in her head drummed up again. It was very distracting.

"Not a very good excuse Slayer, you've been with Vampires before." He replied sotto voice and stepped back into her space. She tensed, ready to resist, turn her head, but he didn't kiss her again. Instead he reached out, trailed his hand down her arm and linked with her fingers.

She was breathing way too hard, she could feel her heart pounding double time, embarrassment and desire warring within her. His lust feeding hers through this damnable loop between them. He leaned in again and whispered in her ear. "I know you want me Slayer; I can feel it and I can smell it and I can see it."

His tongue darted out and caressed her ear lobe. She couldn't help her little jump. "You taste so fucking good Slayer," he breathed against her before nibbling her sensitive skin. She let her eyes slide closed for one breathless moment while her nerve endings all leapt up and quivered before she took a resolute breath and forced her will to the front of her mind.

She pushed him again to get some space between them, wrenching her hand free and using it to take a wild swing at him. He caught her hand, lightning fast, and she growled low in her throat, sound escaping against her will. Frustrated with her slow drugged limbs she tried to hit him again and he caught that hand as well.

Iron hard pressure pushed her arms over her head and held them there. Aligning his whole hard body with hers. One knee shoved in between hers, his cock pressed up against her stomach. She rolled up against him, disgusted with herself that his display of strength had her panting a little deeper. "I don't even like you!" she spat and he smiled. He knew she wasn't trying that hard to hurt him. Arrogant Jerk.

"I don't like you either Slayer, enemies make the best lovers." With that declaration, he did kiss her again. Just brushing his lips over hers, once then twice. Almost gentle, leaving her swaying into him, wanting more. Needing more.

When she parted her lips to speak, he swept inside her mouth again. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and began to rotate his hips against her and when he let go of her to bury his hands in her hair, her traitorous hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer.

He groaned low in his throat and she shivered as the sound vibrated through her. His leather was too thick so she pushed it off him and he let her go just long enough to let it fall to the ground. Then his hands were back on her.

She rolled up against him, the storm of lust and want and desire drowning out the voice in her head that was screaming at her that this was wrong. One hand found its way into her hair and he pulled sharply to expose her neck and then he was kissing her there.

Vampire at her throat. She ought to be kicking him, she ought to be fighting him. Instead she was remembering his fangs inside her, the power of her pleasure as he took what he needed on the hellmouth, feeling that wanting winding tight again.

She began to tug at his red silk shirt and he let out another of those low growls and let her go. He pulled off his red shirt and then whipped his black t-shirt over his head, before he was on her again. She needed to be closer, needed to feel every inch of him. Needed her skin on his skin.

This was stupid stupid stupid. Why wasn't she stopping him? Why wasn't she hitting him? She was not this weak girlie girl gasping over some guys touch.

He gave her what she needed. Pulling back despite her protests to look her in the eye as he tugged her shirt up over her head and tossed it away from them, deliberate, intentional. He wasn't just ravishing her. He was seducing her.

He didn't look away as his long clever fingers found their way to her hips, pulling her close, leaning in to kiss her again. Her eyes drifted shut again as he explored her mouth, surrender washing over her with his gentle tug and release of her lips. His skin was cool against hers and delightfully firm.

She let her hands run over his smooth skin, delighting in powerful muscle as she let her hands enjoy. She felt a surge of feminine power when he let out a soft little sound and shuddered against her. She wasn't the only one.

He surged against her, teeth biting her lip, hand anchoring her hip so he could grind low and deliberate into her softness.

One hand slid up her back, unbearably slow and sensual, a flick of fingers unhooking her bra. God, she whimpered out loud, unable to help it, because he was pulling back enough to slide her bra down her arms.

Kissing her neck again, claiming her skin with firm caresses as he bared her breasts. She'd never felt so naked. She forced words through a throat gone tight with longing and managed to whisper, "This is wrong Spike, we have to stop!"

He pulled back and looked in her eyes. His gone dark with wanting, almost cobalt blue, so intense she felt they ought to glow. "Why Slayer? We both want it."

His hands cupped her breasts and he rotated his hands letting his thumbs brush her nipples. She moaned, bucking into him, so damn sensitive. His touch was too gentle, she needed more. "You feel so soft under my hands Slayer, like silk."

Her body jerked at his touch, twisting to get more of him, and he smiled. That slow lazy smile he had given her on her porch. "Don't worry baby, I'll make it good for you. I can make you feel so good Slayer, take you places you haven't ever been before."

He leaned in closer, one hand sliding around her body to pull her in. His broad firm chest brushing up against her nipples and she found herself rubbing up against him in frustration. She needed more.

"Let me touch you Buffy." He purred in her ear and her knees buckled, the hum of his voice striking right through to her center, making her pulse with want. He didn't hesitate, sweeping her up in his arms bridal style.

He walked the three steps to the couch, kissing her even as he laid her down, and pressing his body into hers, letting his weight mold her to him.

He bent his head and flicked his tongue over her right nipple and she arched into his touch letting out a little breathy sound. More, she needed more, pressure, want, something.

This should not feel this good. Her mind was screaming that this was wrong but her body was telling her to shut up. He pulled the tip of her breast into his mouth and sucked gently and she found her hands clutching at his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Yes, that right there.

His hands were cupping her waist and sweeping across her middle, thumbs putting just the right amount of pressure. He was doing such wonderful things with his tongue. Flicking and sucking. It was a shock when he bit her gently with blunt human teeth and she about threw them both from the coach when her body reacted and a keen came out of her mouth. She hadn't even known she could make that sound.

Relentless, he nibbled down her body. Flicking his tongue and placing small wet kisses down her belly. She writhed with the pleasure of it. She wanted him touch everywhere. Soon his hands were at the waistband of her jeans and he lifted his head and watched her face while he unbuttoned them, then he lowered the zipper. She ought to look away, slap his hands.

Instead she watched with fascination. His hands dipped inside, sliding around her hips, long clever fingers caressing her skin. He hooked his thumbs in her waistband and she felt herself blushing but she didn't look away. Instead she lifted up, toed off her shoes, let him work her jeans off over her hips, down her legs.

Intensely aware of every bit of skin his fingers caressed as he undressed her.

He dropped the rest of the way to his knees next to the couch. The air was cool on her skin and she felt exposed in nothing but white lace panties. This was insane. She started to move, pull him close, get lost in his touch again, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Let me look at you kitten, you're lovely. All tawny skin and muscle." His hand slid up her calf, stopping and caressing the back side of her knee. "Curves in all the right places, so soft." He placed a soft open-mouthed kiss on her thigh and she twisted and moaned.

"So Sexy" She didn't think anyone had ever called her sexy before and she twisted some more, desperate for his touch. This was too slow, this was too gentle. She needed more.

Her body was burning up, his touch cool in contrast, and she wanted his weight on her. Her mouth felt empty and wanting and her skin starved for contact. She writhed, reaching out, trying to tug him up, make him give her what she wanted without admitting it out loud. His skin was slick and naked and offered her no purchase.

The slight distance between them cleared a little of the foggy spell of lust she was drenched in and she felt embarrassment washing over her as he devoured her with his eyes instead of his kisses. His hand slid further up, slow, deliberate, and she started to move her legs together, realizing just how splayed open she was.

How bare she was to him. That had him leaning closer, kissing her lips, gripping her tighter. "Open your legs Buffy." It was a command, and it should have made her angry. It didn't and she didn't even want to think of why.

She parted her legs slightly, unable to help herself, and his hand found its way to her inner thigh, thumb stroking her, firm grip holding her open. His lips caressing hers in another kiss before he shifted lower, kissing the inside of her knee, pushing her legs open wider. She ached for his touch, her body trembling and her hips thrusting forward instinctively.

She couldn't believe how powerful the wanting was. It would be so easy to push him away, scamper up the stairs. She didn't.

She felt like there was no going back as he slid her panties down her legs, tossed them aside. Naked and trembling she couldn't deny her want, she looked away, tried to close her eyes to the decadent picture of him kneeling between her legs all hunger and muscle and beautiful skin. and he stopped. "Look at me Slayer."

The muscles in his arms were tight, corded muscle outlined by smooth skin, his whole body coiled with desire and suddenly she couldn't take the suspense. She reached out, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him in for some more of those sweet burning kisses that made her forget she was naked and vulnerable.

Just that easy he had her hips pumping uselessly her breasts crushed up between them, she couldn't wait anymore. She felt like she had been waiting forever.

Literally dripping with lust and needing him to give her relief. This had been building for hours and all she wanted was for him to shuck out of those jeans and push inside and stop this aching emptiness.

The rough material of his jeans chafed as he settled between her thighs and she moaned with frustration. She wanted those jeans off, she didn't want to let him go. His hands cupped her ass brazenly, pulling her against him, setting up a rough friction that wasn't enough.

"I want to taste that sweet quim," He panted in her ear, shifting her a little so that his erection, straining against his jeans, pressed directly to her wet center as they rocked together. "I want to fuck you with my tongue first, then you can swallow up my cock with those pretty pussy lips of yours."

It took him sliding down her body, nipping at the underside of her breasts on his way down, for his meaning to penetrate her brain. She jerked back from him, pushing away. Unfortunately just managing to speed his way between her thighs. Still she tried to close her legs, humiliated to have him staring at her most intimate of places. There was absolutely no way she was going to let him do that!

"Let me please you," He whispered, using his hands to push her thighs open wider, breath ghosting across her center. Sliding his hand around to her ass to bring her up to his mouth and she found herself shocked into silence by the feel of his soft wet tongue dragging over her swollen sensitive bits.

Her brain shorted out completely as he tongued her, slick and wet and good. She dragged her foot up his arched back and found her thighs trembling as she opened wide to him. She jerked in surprise when he penetrated her with first one finger, then another, stroking her insides as he lapped at her relentless.

It didn't matter that it was wrong so long as he didn't stop. She arched into his touch, as he stroked and licked, winding up, needing more. He seemed to know, sucking now, rolling her flesh between his lips, soothing with his tongue. His fingers continued to seek until they found a spot inside that had her twisting and moaning with pleasure.

"There it is," He whispered against her flesh, before relentlessly stroking that spot over and over again.

She gasped and writhed with the pleasure, unable to keep still, unable to keep silent. He anchored her with his grip on her ass and focused his attention on her burning clit, assaulting it, kissing it, sucking on it.

This wasn't her. She was not the girl on the couch with her legs spread wide, thrashing and moaning. "That's my girl," he whispered in between mind numbing wet kisses on her throbbing flesh. "Give me that sweet cum,"

Buffy exploded inside, wave after wave of pleasure crashing all around her. She knew she was sobbing his name, over and over, as he licked her through it. Finally subsiding to breathless whispers and shudders.

She couldn't even summon the energy to care. She couldn't even be embarrassed, for a moment only able to lay splayed open and panting like she'd run a marathon. Her insides pulsing and twitching, her sensitive bits quivering.

She finally came down off her high and realized that he was watching her, still kneeling between her legs just watching her. She blushed heavily, realizing just how lewdly she was displayed and sat up, pulling her legs together and looking away.

He didn't let her look away gracefully. He grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him. "Don't do that" He said before he kissed her again. He had another taste now and she realized with a shock that she was tasting herself and that should not be erotic. But it was. She licked and nipped at him, seeking out her taste on every firm line of his lips.

He pulled her to her feet, standing with her. His hands slid down her body to her bottom, pulling her close, kissing her neck again, running one hand up her spine.

"Didn't mean to stare," He whispered as he kneaded her cheeks, grinded up against her. "Just so fuckin sexy all spread open for me, pretty pussy lips all swollen and puffy and wet."

Didn't he ever shut up? She dug her nails into him, pulling that filthy mouth back to her, tasting him. "Taste that? Pretty Buffy, all that sweet quim, juicy on my lips?" He whispered between kisses. "Could lick you out for days."

Jesus, his words made her throb just as much as his tight body under her hands. She let her hands cup his neck, then slide over his shoulders and down his washboard stomach to his belt. Where she stopped.

He made no move to help her, kept his hands on her hips as dipped his tongue in her mouth, licking the inside, finding that rhythm she needed somewhere else.

He shuddered against her and trailed kisses down her shoulder and that did it. She undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants but hesitated again at his zipper. He kissed her on her mouth. Passionate and needy now, running his hands over her hips, up her back, cupping her face. Too caught up in lust to talk now. Devouring her.

She unzipped his pants, and he finally participated, shifting his weight, toeing off one shoe, then the other. Not letting go of her lips, or her hips. She only hesitated a second before she slid the jeans down over his backside as far as her hands would reach. He kicked them off the rest of the way.

"Want you Slayer." he murmured between kisses. "Want to be inside you" He kissed her again. His hands were in her hair again. Her hands had minds of their own and slid up his legs and around to his bottom.

"Fuck!" he whispered against her mouth and rotated his hips against her. "Need you now. Need to push inside that sweet swollen little puss. All wet and juicy and lovely and warm." He tumbled to the couch pulling her down on top of him.

Her legs slid to either side of him, framing his lean hips, spreading her open. She moaned, pushing down, wanting the hard length of him inside.

"Lift up." This mindless numb obedience must be a side effect of the spell. She couldn't help herself. That was why she was doing this. It was the spells fault. Nothing natural could possibly feel this overpowering.

She grasped at these comforting thoughts as she lifted up, angled her hips, slid onto him. She was so wet that there was no pain, but she was swollen and snug and had to exert some pressure to get him inside.

God, he stretched her in new ways and touched her in new places and if felt so good. Amazing even. She braced her hands on his chest and took him into her all the way. They groaned together sharing a wide eyed look of wonder. So good.

His hands firm on her hips to slide her first in, then out, and she followed his lead, finding her own rhythm. Sweet friction. She was a bad bad girl, and she liked it.

She'd never done anything so naughty in her life. She felt powerful and wicked and decadent.

"Arch your back pet," She did, rotating her hips as she rode him because that felt so good. "Lean back more Buffy." Oh god he had said her name again. So she braced her hands behind her and leaned back further and oh, that was lovely! His cock brushed her at a new angle and she cried out from the pleasure.

He surged up to meet her, snapping his hips in a fast rhythm that had her crying out in pleasure. This was the more she had been craving, needing. Hard deep thrusts that stabbed up inside just right. Powerful and satisfying.

She felt it building again, that well of want and desire and need and dug her hands into his thighs for leverage as she worked herself off on him, wanting it, needing it. He was cussing, begging, no longer coherent, thrusting hard and relentless.

His velvety voice pushed her over the edge, and her orgasm rushed over her so hard and unexpected that she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips as her hips jerked uncontrollably.

He fucked her through it, his hands on her hips anchoring her to the world as she rode out the aftershocks, twitching. Just as her pleasure was beginning to ebb he sat up, pulling her up with him.

Face to face, chest to chest, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him as he plunged deeply, hips surging up to grind into her. She lost all control of her vocals as she sobbed and twisted as another orgasm hit her violently. It was too much, she couldn't take it. The sensations were almost painful in their intensity.

Still she couldn't stop, restless and desperate, she wrapped her thighs around him tightly to give him leverage and his hand found her way to her ass to pull himself in even deeper.

It was too much, she was too full, but he didn't quit, keeping that same relentless rhythm, hand snaking down between them so he could work her clit with his thumb.

She held on to him for dear life, digging her nails into him. Coming apart for him. Shattering. Digging her teeth into his corded neck, needing to devour him. It was just seconds later that he was chanting her name, losing his timing, stabbing up into her wildly as he found release.

She buried her head in the crook of his neck and shook. Her whole body trembled in aftershocks. He twitched inside her, massaging her ass, breathing heavily against her neck.

She reveled in his strength as he managed to hold them both steady while she melted into a boneless puddle against him.

Her thoughts swirled to a slow ebb and she realized she felt better. The bitter feel of magic she'd been fighting was draining out of her. She felt limp, wrung out.

Fantastic.

Finally, she pulled back and looked at him. She had slept with Spike. She had let him touch her and lick her and she had liked it.

Liked it so much that she had crawled on top of him and fucked him. This was so not of the good.

What the hell had she been thinking? The horror of who she was clinging too worked its way into her conscious. This was not some harmless college boy. This was a Vampire.

She scrambled off him backwards with a gasp. Horror chasing away the lovely afterglow from a moment before. She snatched up one of the blankets that had been pushed on the floor at some point and wrapped it around herself. Oh God, Oh God! This was so very bad, and he didn't seem to even care.

Contentment rolled off him in waves. He smirked at her and bent over to grab his jeans. But he didn't bother putting them on. Oh No! Not him. He just fished out his cigarettes.

"You seduced me!" She accused. He just lit his cigarette, calmly peering up through his long dark lashes. He sprawled back on the couch, completely nude and comfortable.

"Well yeah, s'not a crime." She sputtered angrily. But what could she say? She had let him. She had let him corner her and kiss her and touch her. She could have kicked him in his head a hundred times. She leaned over and snatched his jeans and threw them at him.

He just sighed and began to pull them on, one leg at a time. God, she was watching him. She was watching the muscles rippling along his powerful legs. She spun around embarrassed.

"Little late for embarrassment Slayer. Don't know why you're all upset. S'not like you were a virgin." She listened as he stood and zipped his pants. "I'm decent" he announced. She turned.

He was not decent. His bare chest gleamed at her, all smooth angles and hard muscles.

His hair was mussed, all curly and sexy. Deep blue eyes, watching her, running up her body to her face, with no shame.

A bite mark, stood out livid on his pale perfect skin, blotches on his forearms where she had gripped him too tight. Evidence screaming at her, written on his body.

Wasn't he at all regretful? All she got through the bond was contentment. She felt better just like he said she would. No more screaming in her head. Right as rain he'd said. This was a nightmare and she was going to wake any moment. The seconds passed and she did not wake.

"You will never speak of this again. It will never happen again. Ever." She turned and walked as quickly as she could up the stairs, away from his eyes that knew way too much.


	7. Ask Me No Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to kbeautimous for the beta work. So appreciated!

 

**Ask Me No Questions**

Spike watched her hips sway under the thin blanket as she scuttled up the stairs. What the hell was that? He had never had a woman scramble out of his arms that fast. He hadn't expected undying love or anything, but overwhelming guilt and horror were hardly feelings that should result from a fantastic shag. He felt himself growing hard again just thinking about it. How could she want to physically distance herself from that?

Christ on a Cross. He'd never come so hard in his life. He dropped back onto the couch with a groan. He didn't know what the fuck her bloody problem was. He'd taken it bleedin' slow as molasses. He had wanted to rip her garments right from her body and smash her into the wall. He'd wanted to bite her and say raunchy things. But instead he'd made her watch him undress her, gave her plenty of time to say no.

It had been shockingly erotic.

He couldn't even believe how her innocence had turned him on. Wide eyes, shocked gasps. Rolling hips and breathy moans. Her sweet touch so forbidden it felt like being caressed by an Angel of God. How could she burn so hot she almost set his cold dead heart to flame and then stand there minutes later and be cold as the pure driven snow? As if an experience that had rocked him to his core hadn't affected her at all.

He grabbed the remote and flung himself back, flicking on the telly. The Summers had cable and he settled on an old Monty Python flick. Bloody brilliant comedy. . Wasted. He couldn't concentrate. Instead his mind fixated on reruns of creamy skin and bucking hips and candy lips.

The way she had tried to get away from him and then kissed him like she was drowning. The way she tasted, all fresh and virtuous. How she had given into his touch and writhed and moaned and cried out like the vixen she was. His Buffy never did anything halfway.

The unmistakable sound of the shower went on upstairs. Washing him off of her. Bitch.

She had wanted it just as much as he had, no matter what lies she wanted to tell herself now. Tugging at his shirt in desperation. Hesitating at the waistband of his jeans. So intense, grinding her hips against him without even realizing it. Sliding her innocent hands up to cup his bum. Rotating her hips while she rode him.

Who had taught her that? The thought of someone else touching what was his had his hands clenched and his demon howling. She hesitated upstairs, feeling his rage, tuning in by paying attention. He forced it down, pressed out a calming breath and he could feel when she turned her attention away again.

The feel of hot drops of water hitting over-sensitive skin had him moaning out loud from the shock of it and he lay back further. He deliberately ran his hand slow and firm down his stomach so she could feel it and unzipped his jeans. It had the intended effect of drawing her attention again, heating up her mind with curiosity, embarrassment, lust.

He brought his already rock-hard cock into his hand and stroked himself slowly, aware of the cold hard surface at her back. She must have leaned back in the shower. She was up there, wet and naked and wanting. He wondered if he could make her touch herself.

He stroked himself slowly remembering the way she had tried to stop him from tasting her, and then how she had bucked against his face, calling his name and shaking. He focused on the way his rough calloused fingers felt, the tug and pull, as he tried to immerse himself in the experience as much as he could so that the echo of it would make her throb and want. He had her complete attention now, her body tense and still. No movement, barely breathing.

He increased the pressure on himself and stroked a little faster, thinking of being inside her. She had been virginal tight and sopping wet and so incredibly hot. The breathless little sounds she had made, escalating into full blown moans and cries. Then calling his name desperately, clinging to his shoulders, convulsing around his cock.

He tried to draw it out, make her cave, but the ghost of her presence in his mind made everything so intense that he came quickly, sperm covering his hand and stomach. Her knees gave out and he heard a low thud as she slid down the wall to sit on her ass.

He glanced around looking for something to clean himself off with and saw some Kleenex on the table next to his head. Making quick work of it he zipped himself back up and sighed with contentment.

His Slayer, however, was irritated and embarrassed. He could feel it so strong through the bond that he almost went up to check on her before he stopped himself. He was the Big Bad, not a soddin nursemaid, and there was a good flick on the telly. He stared at the screen resolutely, uselessly.

A quick wash of her hair before she toweled of roughly. Angry stomping, punctuated by a slammed bathroom door. He heard a drawer slide open and realized with a start that he was in game face and that's why he could hear so well. But he didn't push it away. There was silence for a minute outside of her heartbeat and her breathing and then a small click. Putting something down?

The rustle of covers. Bloody Hell, she was getting into bed.

What was she wearing? His mind conjured up sexy visions of leather and lace and he shook his head. More like those filmy pajamas she had on earlier. He listened to her toss and turn and sigh. Felt the restless edge of her annoyance, the heavy weight of covers. A thudding sound, possibly the pounding of her pillow. The credits rolled for Monty and he flipped through the channels.

He was such a ponce. Here he was listening to every sound she made and he ought to be thinking of Dru. Bloody bitch. Messing around with a Chaos Demon and then a Fungus Demon. Wonder if she's shacked up with anyone today? When he got this Slayer mess sorted out he was going to show her who she belonged to. Starting with slaughtering whatever loser she had attached herself to.

Christ on a cross, he hoped she was alright. Dru wasn't always as worried about things like sunlight as she ought to be. And she had a thing for Churches.

He suddenly smiled. Soap Channel was playing this week's Passions. He crossed his feet at the ankles and settled in for a good watch. Hours till sunrise and his Slayer would throw a right fit if he went hunting. Not to mention he didn't want to risk being seen like this by anyone demonic. Especially Dru.

It was the only thing that kept him from going out and finding her and dragging her back to lock in the basement. She was already raging about him tasting like ashes and blinded by sunlight. Must have known he'd end up shagging the Slayer and wanting more.

The Slayer who couldn't stay still. Tossing, turning. Was she thinking about him? She still had that wet throb from when he had wanked off without her. Would she touch herself? Fuck, what a bleedin' idiot he was. He ought to just go up there and take care of business.

He shifted on the couch and tried to concentrate on the telly. Cursing, he got up and stalked into the kitchen. Little munchies would distract him. He grabbed a bag of chips off the counter and flopped into the armchair. Which reminded him of the fantasy he'd had of her there and he jumped up, swearing. Then kicked the couch, which hurt with his bare foot.

Bleedin tragic he was. He sat down on the couch and ripped open the chips, Doritos, and began to snack. These things were actually pretty damn good and he found the bond simmered down to a dull awareness when he wasn't obsessively focused on the girl. Would the Summers stock any scotch? Highly unlikely. Getting pissed sounded like a fantastic idea.

He rolled up the bag, put it on the coffee table, and went out to his car. He rummaged around in the boot; shoving aside a bottle of bourbon, he found the scotch. Her scent assaulted him and he turned to see her there in the doorway, all tousled from bed. She was wearing some silky robe thing that skirted her thighs, a cream color. Didn't hide much. She wasn't wearing any makeup and looked so young and sweet without the smudge of darkness that was customarily around her eyes. Her lips ripe like plums, still swollen from his kisses.

"What are you doing?" She asked sharply, snark in place. Must have heard him leaving.

He held up his Scotch. "Drink?"

She wrinkled her nose in that adorable childlike way he liked and shook her head. "A world of No!"

She turned around and went back in, leaving the door ajar for him. The back of the little robe brushed her thighs, her tight little bum outlined by silk. He let the boot slam shut and followed her in the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. She was already half way up the stairs. Was she coming on to him? Because that robe left next to nothing to the imagination. Especially since he'd seen all he needed to fill in the blank spots.

"Bloody fucking hell!" he cursed out loud, twisting the cap off and drinking straight from the bottle. It was hot. Fuck! He charged in the kitchen, grabbed a glass and fished some ice out of the freezer.

So the chit was an incredible fuck. Bollocks! So he wanted her again without excuse of his demon. Big fucking bloody deal. Who wouldn't want to encore that little spitfire? So it was wrong to lust after the Slayer, he was evil and delighted in all things wrong.

They might be trying to figure out a way to end it but until they did she was his. Might as well enjoy it, because tomorrow they would fight about blood. Or maybe be enemies again. He curbed the impulse to chase her and instead gulped down more scotch.

He stubbornly tried to watch his soap. She was tossin' and turnin' in bed again, and he was acutely aware of the slide of silk against her skin, the heavy weight of her hair as she wrestled with it. Would she stake him if he opened her pretty veins again? Her blood sang to him, just a soft tune tonight, he was sated. But by tomorrow night it would be pounding in his head. The credits rolled and he reached out and clicked the off button. He drained the rest of his drink and ghosted up the stairs.

To hell with it.

He would have known which room was hers even without her heavy scent. Her presence sharpened the closer her got to her. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. She lay on her side, her long golden legs all tangled up in the blankets, only giving him a glimpse of tawny skin. She was wrapped around her pillow and her eyes were closed. She was pretending to be asleep. As if he couldn't smell her arousal. Hear her wild heartbeat and uneven breathing. Feel her uncertainty and nervousness.

It was past midnight, Sunday then. No school. Did the Slayer attend church? She was unnaturally still and he smiled watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Didn't want to admit she wanted him here, so she pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't be forced to kick him out because of her pride. He could understand pride. He tried to keep a lid on his smugness but guessing from her flare of annoyance, he failed.

He considered pulling his jeans off, he usually slept nude, but with a twinge of self disgust for caring he remembered how shy she was. Without further thought he slid into her bed and scooted under the covers with her. She stiffened but he ignored it and snaked his arm around her pulling her close to his body.

"What are you doing?" She asked sharply, same tone from earlier, an outraged squawk. Wasn't able to keep her pretty gob shut.

"Going to bed." She sat up abruptly and scooted back against her headboard. Giving him a glimpse of the little silk top she wore. The flimsy material molded to her pert little titties. She must know how she was turning him on. She met his eyes, blushed a lovely crimson, and pulled the blanket up over her bits.

"You aren't sleeping here!" She snapped. "Go downstairs."

"My demon needs you close, Summers." She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "You haven't been able to sleep either, Goldilocks, it's only for one bleedin' night. Tomorrow we'll have this all sorted out and I won't want to be around you anymore."

"This is insane, you are not sleeping in my bed!" She scooted over further and lay back against her pillows, putting her arms along her sides, cocooning her body beneath the blanket. "Go downstairs or I'll lock you in the basement."

Before she could realize what he was up to he grabbed the blanket and tossed it to the floor. She had on a cream little set of silk pajamas that matched the robe from earlier. A sleeveless little number that came to just above her bellybutton and a pair of silk shorts that rode high on her thighs with little slits up the side. She sprang up to a sitting position and shouted. "Hey!" Then she grabbed for the blanket, giving him a wonderful view of her backside before she clutched the blanket to her chest again. How she could manage to do virginal shyness when he'd literally tongue fucked her he had no idea. But she managed.

"This isn't about me sleeping here Slayer. You're afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off my tight, hard body." The Slayer got up on her knees, fuming mad, wrapped from shoulders to knees in her blanket. All righteous fury and indignation.

"You are so delusional Spike! We were under a spell thingy! Trust me, now you don't even have a chance!"

He cocked his head to the side and looked her up and down, slow and deliberate. Which made her seethe with rage. Taunting the Slayer was so much more fun than the telly. "S'that Right?"

She nodded her pert little head "That's right."

Spike pulled himself to his knees, legs spread on the bed. Leaving little to nothing to the imagination. Her awareness of him ratcheted up and her breathing quickened. "You are telling me that you never got hot and bothered around me before tonight?"

She was even more fun to bait than the great Poof.

"What are you talking about?" She snapped, a little more uncertain.

"I'm a Vampire, Slayer. I know every time your panties soak through. And I can't think of a single fight we've had that wasn't spiced with the sweet scent of your arousal." The outraged look on her face was just priceless. "In point of fact..."

She punched him in the nose, sending him sprawling on the floor. He leapt to his feet in game face and squared off against her. Anger leaping up inside him hot and hard and satisfying. She had jumped to her feet as well, no longer ashamed of her clothing as she held up her cute little fists. She didn't hold them quite right; you'd never guess that she could actually throw a punch. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the mattress sending her toppling and squealing to the floor on the other side of the bed. Now she was right brassed off.

He vaulted the bed to land opposite her just in time to jump hastily in order to avoid her flying feet. Then she managed to nail him in his abdomen as he was staring at the flash of panties he saw when she kicked out at him. Bint ought to Slay in that little number; Vamps would be too distracted to fight back... Kind of like him, now.

She flipped to her feet and came at him fists flying. She managed to get past him with two punches, but neither connected well. "Tell me Slayer, I have to know." She kicked him into the wall and the drywall cracked. She wasn't going to be happy when she noticed it. He picked her up by her arms and tossed her into the door, gaining him a minute to snark, and to ogle the delightful bounce of her breasts under that bitty excuse for a top. "Is it all Vampires that get you revved up, or is it just me?"

She came at him, fists flying, hair wild, eyes flashing. Sweet Mary mother of Jesus she was a sight. "Vampires." Punch, he blocked. "Do." Punch, he blocked again. "Not." Punch, ouch. "Get." Punch, he dodged. "Me." She Punched, ouch again. "Hot!" She slammed her foot into his ribs, sending him flying back at least three feet, where he tripped over the sprawled mattress.

In a split second she was on him, straddling his middle, hand drawn back to stake him. But she had no stake. He couldn't help the startled laugh that escaped his lips, his demon slipping away leaving him with human features.

"Going to slay me with air, Pet?" She glanced at her hand with a genuine look of surprise and then blew his mind when she laughed, too. A sweet honeyed sound that he didn't hear too often, and never directed at him. Something shifted and softened inside him, his hands came up to grip her hips and he smiled at her. And she smiled back. Finally she got off him and he climbed to his feet.

"You ruined my bed!" She wailed, hands on hips. "Help me fix the mattress." He didn't even realize that he had simply bent to her will until they were straightening up the covers and he suddenly stood up stiffly, horrified. He could deal with protective, and possessive, and maybe even fondness because of the bond they shared.

But he'd be damned if he would allow himself to start having fluffy soft feelings and let her lead him around by the nose. Spike was no one's lap dog! If he did something for her that was one thing, but not because she told him to. This was unacceptable. Fix the bed Spike, yes mistress, whatever you say mistress. Bloody buggering hell!

"What?" She asked.

He turned on his heel and left the room, stomping down the stairs. He threw himself down on the couch and closed his eyes. Willing sleep to come even though it was at least two hours till dawn. Fuck! The Watcher had best have a way to sort this out on the morrow because the affection he was feeling for Buffy while she was sprawled on top of him laughing crossed the line. He couldn't blame that completely on the bond. It was genuine. And that was very, very frightening.

Bloody Hell! Cursing himself and Dru and the spell and the bond and the Slayer, he still found himself listening to the sound of her climbing back into bed.


	8. Tell me no Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the wonderful kbeautimous for adding 1,000 comma's and editing all my weird capitalization issues. I will try to work on that.

**Tell me no Lies**

There was a soft knock at her door. Buffy ignored it and pulled the pillow over her head. Granted, she had slept most of the day before, but between the blood loss and the mating she was exhausted. The door creaked open and Willow softly asked if she was awake. She groaned and turned away from the door, huddling deeper into her pillow.

"Come on Buffy, wake up. Giles found out some things and he wants to try breaking the bond when the sun's at its peak. It's an opposite power slot from the one Drusilla used. Buffy?"

Buffy groaned and rolled over. Spike was sound asleep, downstairs somewhere. All she felt through the bond was a restless edge. The same she had battled with last night. If she had let him sleep in her room, at least near her, she probably would have slept better. Stupid bond. Stupid Vampire.

Her and magic were just unmixy things. Why did this creepy stuff always happen to her? Oh yeah, because she was the "Slayer". Being the Slayer sucked.

She finally braved the world outside her cocoon and peeked over the top of her pillow to spy Willow standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. "Was it so awful to have Spike here last night? He was being creepily nice to you, did he get under your skin?"

"Oh, God!" Buffy moaned and hid under the pillow again, sure her face was the color of a tomato. She would never be able to look anyone in the eye without them knowing. She didn't even want to think about it. Under her skin was a major understatement.

Try having sex with him on the couch, losing complete control over her body and emotions, and then lying awake most of the night thinking about it.

As if actually sleeping with an un-souled evil Vampire that she really didn't know that well wasn't bad enough, she wanted to do it again. She had never had any experience like that before; she thought that kind of thing only happened in romance novels. Neither of her sexual experiences had even come close to the myriad of pleasure she had experienced with Spike. She hadn't believed that sort of passion existed.

She felt horribly guilty, not only because she had slept with him and liked it, but because an experience like that should happen only with someone you loved. And she loved Angel. She felt like she was betraying him even though he had left her. Not to mention, who sleeps with two Vampires? What kind of Slayer sleeps with her mortal enemy? She groaned again as tears leaked from her eyes. She was a Vampire slut!

"Buffy?" Willow asked softly settling down on the bed. "Are you OK? Did Spike do something? This whole thing must be majorly weird. You want to talk about it?" Wiping her eyes on the pillow Buffy sat up and gave her friend a wobbly smile.

There had been a time when she might have told Willow what had happened. And she still might. But she had grown up a lot in high school. The hellmouth can do that to a girl. This was something she wanted to sort through in her own mind for a while before she shared it with anyone. Figure out how she felt about it before she let anyone else's opinion in.

"No, Spike kept mostly to himself last night." It wasn't precisely a lie, majority of the night he did sit downstairs and watch TV. "This whole thing is just messing with my head, and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. So Giles found a cure, huh?"

"Not exactly. I better let him tell it." Willow smiled and stood, patting her leg. "I'll let you get dressed; you can't go downstairs in that." Buffy looked down at her outfit and grimaced, remembering how Spike had ogled her in it.

"Most of my jammies are at the dorm and I spilled something on my Yummy Sushi ones yesterday." Willow just nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her. She hadn't spilled anything on her pajamas, but she had been so turned on by Spike that her crotch had been slightly damp. She wasn't about to wear them again, not until they were washed, at least twice. She might just burn them in a symbolic torching when this whole thing was over.

She got out of bed and walked to the mirror, looking herself over harshly. She looked pale and wane. Her roots were showing and her hair was lanky. The angry redness had faded from her bite mark and by tomorrow it would look like an old scar. Spike had bitten her directly over Angel's bite mark. How he could see it in the dark she didn't know. Did it mean anything? Probably some sort of pissing contest that she wouldn't really understand. She didn't even want to think about how Angel was going to react to this new situation.

Well, that settled it; everybody was going to wait while she put herself together. She didn't want to scare anyone with the monster staring back at her in the mirror. So she snuck down the hall to the bathroom and took care of necessities. Including brushing her teeth and washing her face. She snaked back to her room just as quietly.

She dressed carefully. Why did she have so many sexy pairs of underwear? Why didn't she have any Granny panties? Finally she chose a red lacy panty set with light padding in the bra. Wasn't like he was going to see them anyway. Nope, she was clothing girl.

It was too hot for a scarf or a turtleneck. So she chose a flattering red shirt with a vee neckline. The choice of said shirt had nothing to do with the fact that Spike seemed to like red. Her cross choker was red. She decided against a skirt. If she had to kick Spike she didn't want him goggling at her panties again. Yes she had seen his eyes glaze over in that way that men do when they think naughty thoughts.

In a strange twisted sort of way she was pleased that she was learning to read his expressions and moods. All of her shorts were ridiculously short; she didn't want him staring at her legs. So she settled for a simple pair of five pocket jeans and frowned when she put them on.

Were they too tight? Did she own any jeans that weren't tight? Did it really matter anyway? She wasn't going to change the way she dressed for crying out loud!

She dug out her chain link belt and carefully adjusted her choker so it hid her bite mark. Then sat at her vanity and carefully erased all signs of exhaustion with the miracle of makeup and brushed her hair till it was shiny once again. Finally she completed her look with her favorite low cut ass kicking boots, black leather went with everything.

She stood in front of her mirror for several long minutes. She was going to have to face him. She fought for composure. She would act like nothing happened. If he knew what was good for him he would act like nothing happened, too. Giles would fix this and they would go their separate ways. She took a deep breath and strode out of her room all confidence. He would have to be faced sooner or later, might as well get it over with.

The living room was empty except for Spike, who was sprawled out face down on the couch in nothing but his jeans. An empty bottle of scotch, an empty bottle of bourbon, and an empty Doritos bag graced the coffee table.

She winced at the claw marks on his back. Her fingernails had done that and she hadn't even realized it. Oh, God. The gang must have seen them. Maybe they would assume Dru had made them. Of course they would. Why even the thought of Dru touching him, marking him, made her stiffen with jealousy, she didn't know. In a hundred years he must have made love to her a thousand times or more.

Her eyes darted around the room and she cringed again. Spike's leather, his shirts, her shirt and bra all over the floor by the wall. She raced over snatching up the clothes. She stuffed her items in the cushions of the chair and then laid Spike's things over the back of the couch. She also hid her jeans out of sight but she couldn't find her panties.

It was too late anyway she realized, horror washing over her. Xander would only see what he wanted to see, and it wouldn't occur to Willow, she was still very much the innocent that she had met years ago. But Giles. Giles knew. He knew Drusilla scratches would have healed with the slayer blood and he knew what clothes all over the floor meant.

The one bright spot in all of this had been that at least she didn't need to confess to her watcher the way she had with Angel. It wasn't as if Spike was going to go evil, he was already there. They could break the spell and Giles would never need know that his Slayer had slept with yet another Vampire. Now, due to her carelessness, Giles knew.

The group was most likely in the kitchen, but she couldn't face them quite yet. She needed a moment to compose herself. She watched him sleep and thought fleetingly about waking him up so that she wouldn't have to face her watcher alone.

He was the very picture of debauchery. Passed out drunk, half naked. One arm dangling to the floor, head resting on his other arm. His skin all creamy, even in this relaxed state his muscles were so hard that each one was clearly defined. His jeans rode low on his hips and fit him like a second skin, molding his tight round behind and his long graceful legs. As muscled as the rest of him, she had found.

His hair was mussed into little curls that gave him the sexy bedroom look. His face was turned to the couch so all she got was a profile of cheekbones, defined jaw line. Drusilla had good taste for a crazy lady; she had chosen the perfect specimen to be her sex toy for all eternity.

Buffy sighed and turned. She didn't need anyone to stand beside her, she was the Slayer after all. Just then, her friends came barreling into the room. Thank God they hadn't caught her ogling!

Xander and Willow were laughing, balancing pizza boxes and books. Giles was more subdued and didn't quite meet her eyes. She suddenly wished she had woken Spike so he could put on a shirt.

"Buffy, you're up! I am the Pizza God, I come bearing gifts!" Xander sang happily depositing his armload on the coffee table, Willow right behind him. All the noise disturbed Spike even in his drunken state and he rolled over onto the floor with a thump. Without opening his eyes he blindly fumbled up on the couch with one hand till he found the blanket and pulled it onto his face.

Xander lost his cheery mood. His eyes sharpened with dislike and his lip curled into a sneer. Buffy headed him off. She could appreciate Xander's deep and abiding dislike of everything Vampire, but it didn't help the situation any.

"Spike, get up. Pizza's here." She stepped over him and flopped onto the couch, opening one of the boxes and helping herself to a slice.

"Can smell it Slayer" Spike mumbled and she giggled. She wished she could rewind that moment, she was not a giggler. There was something wrong with her in a big way. Good thing they were breaking this bond today so that she could dust Spike and get on with her pathetic life.

Willow stepped over Spike to sit by her, but Xander sat stiffly in the chair, unwilling to come even that close. Giles set down his books as well and grabbed a slice of pizza, but remained standing. Also unwilling to sit so near to Spike.

Spike rolled over groaning and stumbled to his feet, glaring bleary eyed around him. Buffy hid her smile and silently handed him his tee-shirt from off the back of the couch. He took it and stumbled into the bathroom with none of his usual grace. The shower came on. Just make yourself at home why don't you, Buffy snarked to herself silently. He could have at least asked. With Spike out of the way, Giles sat on the end of the couch and the four of them ate in a silence broken only by the "Bloody hell!" that filtered out of the bathroom.

Ravenous, Buffy devoured four times as much pizza as everyone else, but all good things have to come to an end...even pizza binging. Buffy sat her last crust down on the empty box and turned to Giles. "So what's the up?"

Giles looked up and met her eyes with resolve and she braced herself to hear the worst based on that grim expression.

"I tried looking up a mating bond, since Spike let that particular word slip in the kitchen, but I found nothing of any interest." His voice held an edge. Things that were not in his books were not as real to him as things that were. "So we researched Siring. Without learning much more than I already knew."

The shower shut off. "There are ways to break the Sire bond. Death, of course. The Sire can also be challenged and willingly release the bond to the winner. This involves blood play, and the bond has to be transferred, it can't just be released."

The door opened and Spike ghosted into the room. She didn't think the others were even aware of him he was so silent. "We found two separate spells that could be used to break the bond; one of them would cause the death of said Sire and would require a live human sacrifice. The other had references to some cases of insanity in both parties."

Giles took off his glasses to polish them and noticed Spike suddenly, jumping a little in surprise. "There are other spells, unrelated, that deal with psychic bonds and telepathy. Mostly these references deal with creating such bonds. It's dark magic, usually fitting the mold of mind control or slavery."

Spike moved into her line of vision. He was still barefoot and his tee-shirt did nothing to hide his muscles. He scooped up a piece of pizza, bending at the waist. Skin rippling, jeans tightening over delightful parts. Hair still wet, curls abolished. How could someone so evil be so pretty? Buffy would probably carry around an innate distrust of the pretty for the rest of her life.

"Willow and I have worked out a reversal to one of these spells, and combined it with one of the Sire spells. We don't believe the side effects will be overly traumatic and failure will not result in death. The sun will peak in," Giles conferred with his watch "twenty seven minutes; this would be the best time to try it."

"What kind of side effects are we talking, Watcher?" Spike asked between pizza bites. His devil may care persona was back in place. A thin stream of irritation ghosted through the bond but mostly she got wariness and hunger. Oh God, he hadn't fed for two days. She hadn't even thought about it.

Maybe she should send Willow and Xander to the butchers to buy pigs blood like they used to do for Angel. Maybe it wouldn't come up. Maybe in twenty seven minutes she'd be free of him, and he had promised to take Drusilla and leave.

She'd expected to feel hate through the bond, if not for her then for her friends, now that he could concentrate on something other than boundless lust. But there was no hate, and occasionally she felt small squashed surges of affection. She felt slightly odd, too. When she had thought of Drusilla earlier her hate of the dark haired temptress had faded and she had almost felt a fondness for her.

Yep, it was way past time to separate her mind from Spike's.

"I'm not entirely certain," Giles admitted. "Most likely physical sickness, which I believe will be temporary. As well as headache and possible nosebleeds. I am fairly certain that the spell we have worked out will not result in psychological side effects, and that the physical side effects will be temporary and preferable to the current state of affairs."

That didn't sound entirely pleasant, and she could see why Giles had glossed over it. Leave it to Spike to zero in on the loophole. He just grunted and shrugged though, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Giles exchanged a look with Willow. "We'd better get things prepared. We're going to use the kitchen, since the spell requires a sand circle and the bathroom isn't big enough." Willow nodded, darted a look at Spike, and followed Giles into the kitchen.

Xander didn't follow, he looked resolute, as if he was protecting her from the Big Bad in her living room. It was almost laughable, but his loyalty was not. She could bite her tongue and not laugh at Xander because he had faced death with her over and over.

After a moment of awkward silence, the three of them went into the kitchen, too.

Willow was concentrating on laying her sand in a wide circle. Much larger than those she usually drew. Giles was placing lit candles around Willow's circle in a careful outer circle. Red candles. Fat one, skinny one, fat one, skinny one, in a pattern. She'd never understood how the color of a candle or the thickness of a candle or how the candles were come by made such a difference.

Sometimes Willow had to make her own candles for spells and sometimes she bought them. But a stolen candle was supposed to very dangerous to the caster. Willow finished her circle, carefully checking that there were no breaks, and then stepped out and began placing white candles in a third ring around the first two. Giles finished with the red and began to light the white ones. It was going to take forever to get the dripped wax off of her mother's shiny floor.

Buffy silently watched the proceedings and deliberately fiddled with her focus, noting how she could muffle Spike's presence to a warm awareness that wrapped around her like an enveloping hug. If she thought of him directly she could zero in on his every emotion, and his physical condition.

Spike was standing too close to her. His front millimeters from touching her back, but she found it strangely comforting and didn't want him to step away. Despite Xander's glare. After a moment of staring Xander seemed to realize that they were aware of it and looked hastily away.

Giles checked his watch again. "Spike, Buffy, you'll both sit in the circle. No weapons." Buffy began to step over the rim and Giles grabbed her arm. He got a low possessive rumble of warning from Spike, but ignored it. "Your cross is a weapon, Buffy."

She wished she had worn her other choker, she didn't want Spike to see her bite mark. There was no hope for it now, so she reached up and removed the strap of velvet around her neck and put it in Giles' hand.

She braced herself for the wash of intense possessiveness and lust that crested over her before crashing into the pool of his emotions.

She exchanged a look with him, rocked by the feelings despite herself, before glancing away and climbing into the circle. Spike stared at her for another several seconds before he shook his head and focused back on Giles, letting their bond simmer down to what appeared to be the status quo when they were both calm.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, which he handed over. Then to her surprise he reached back into his pocket and pulled out a cross of his own, twisting his hand so he only handled the heavy gold chain. This, too, he handed to Giles, closing the older man's fingers around it tightly before letting go.

She wanted to ask about it, but that would imply an intimacy that they didn't share, so she kept her mouth shut as he climbed in opposite her and sank gracefully into indian style. Awkwardly, she lowered herself into a similar position, careful to keep their knees from touching despite the close quarters.

Not wanting to stare at Spike, she inspected the sand. Willow had used a shiny blue. She wondered if it meant anything. Probably. Giles killed the lights, creating an intimate world with just her and Spike.

Having checked the sand and the candles and exchanged a look at Willow, she forced herself to turn and look at him. Candlelight danced on his sharp features, the light catching in his eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes dark.

"Xander, you'll catch Buffy, it's important she doesn't leave the circle and there is a good possibility that they will both pass out. I'll do the same for Spike. You two need to hold hands." Her head whipped around at Giles, the thought of touching him after last night inducing mild panic.

"What?" She didn't like the shrill sound of her voice. Spike smirked at her but she felt calmness through the bond. No fear from him. He was insane. She didn't want to touch him. His touch did things to her.

Willow answered, "We need to create a physical circle between you; I'll break it halfway through the spell." Her voice was calm, collected. When she was working magic it was almost like she was a different person. Like a doctor at the scene of the crime. In control and expecting obedience.

Spike held out his hands palm up and she reluctantly placed her hands in his. He squeezed them reassuringly and ran his thumb over her knuckles. How a simple touch, in front of all these people, could border on such intimacy she didn't know. It must just be her imagination. He gave her a small smile, with none of his usual mockery, and despite herself, she found herself returning it.

Willow began to sweep around them counterclockwise, her soft voice sing-songing in a gentle chant. Buffy knew from experience this was probably just a protection spell, or blessing the candles, or whatever. Spike's hands were slightly calloused and firm in her own. She found herself wishing that she had put hand lotion on that morning and painted her nails.

His touch strengthened their emotional connection and made her super aware of what she was feeling as she made an effort to shield some of it from him. She wanted to turn away again but forced herself to meet his eyes. So pretty in the low light.

She had let him touch her, kiss her, lick her body. She had let him inside her. She hadn't only let him. She had participated in the entire unholy sensual experience. The memory of it gave her the lowdown tingle and she was intensely aware of how sensitive she was after last nights...activities.

And here they sat, like the strangers they were. Holding hands. Getting a divorce. How absurd was her life?

Plus she was slightly nervous. Giles usually sounded much more assured whenever he condoned the use of magic. She had a feeling that his haste in this case was due to the blatant evidence she had left lying around, testifying to last nights activities.

Spike was beginning to get nervous, too. He didn't show it, but she could feel it, feel him trying to fight it down. His tongue ran across the top of his teeth. He jerked his head to the side, popping his neck. His eyes never left hers.

She felt Xander taking his place behind her and Giles moved up closer to Spike. Willow sat down in her own smaller circle and began to chant in a more monotone voice. Her voice was starker now. It was so weird, as if everyone else in the room was secondary, and her and Spike were the only ones who were real.

She felt tingles race up her arms and zoom through her body. Spike's hands warmed and she found herself clutching him harder, unwilling to let go. The candles began to burn brighter, flames flickering uncontrollably.

Something wasn't right. This was frightening her.

Her nails dug into Spike's hands and he gripped her back hard enough to break a normal person. She felt the stirring of desperation in both of them. She wasn't going to let him go; they couldn't make her let him go. She was just about to stand up, stop the whole thing, when everything went to hell.

Willow stood abruptly and her arm came down in a sharp arc, words pouring from her mouth in a stark yell. Spike was ripped from her, he was no longer holding her hands. She dived for him and found her way blocked by some sort of magical barrier between them.

She pounded on it with her hands, Spike mirroring her on the other side. Panic was taking her over, her mind was screaming, and she realized suddenly that high pitched shrieks were coming from her mouth. The barrier was invisible but becoming coated with her blood as she tried to get through to him.

She would die without him.

She could feel his panic as well and he was yelling something to her, but she couldn't hear anything at all over the roar in the room. She heard something shatter. Spike was throwing himself up against the barrier and also up against the circle. Apparently they were blocked in from all sides.

They were trapped apart. He sank to his knees, and she did as well, his hands mirroring hers on the glass-like surface, leaving a trail of blood behind. He looked as frantic as she had ever seen him, eyes wild with his demon, his agony a sharp pain in her heart. Buffy felt despair washing over even as she pushed uselessly against the barrier, she needed to get to him. Needed to keep fighting.

Damn it! She felt a surge of fury and rage blow through her. How dare they try to take Spike? How dare they try to force them apart? They couldn't have him. An echo of her resolve whipped through the bond and Buffy attacked the barrier with renewed fury, barely noticing a familiar green glow around her as she pounded furiously.

Suddenly, an icy wind swept through the room, blowing out all the candles. The barrier dissolved like so much smoke, toppling her into Spike in a painful and furious way. They fell apart, her dropping on her ass, and him stumbling several steps in the other direction. The wind died down as quickly as it had arrived, and the room was suddenly silent apart from her own wails.

Spike moved like greased lightning to get to her, dropping to his knees and skidding the last few inches to gather her up into his strong arms, burying his face in her hair and rocking her like an infant. She clung to him and cried uncontrollably. He was here. He was real. He was hers.

Giles started to step forward, perhaps to comfort her and Spike clutched her closer to him and growled menacingly. It was the soothing feelings she felt coming from him that finally calmed her hysteria. He was still hers, they hadn't taken him away. She subsided to hiccups and closed her eyes, safe with him, where she belonged.

He whispered soft words that made no sense to her addled brain, but his voice was like a lifeline. She didn't know how long that she sat there before reality began to dawn on her. Why had she acted like that? It made no sense. She felt the stirrings of embarrassment wash over her. Jesus, what the hell was that?

Knowing that she shouldn't feel this way did not change that she had never been more terrified of anything in her life. She finally raised her head a little sheepishly. They were huddled on the kitchen floor in the dark, amidst ruined candles and scattered sand. They were alone.

He met her eyes for a moment, before holding up her hands one by one and examining them. They were bruised and bloody from beating against that invisible barrier. His were, too, she noticed.

Just thinking about those long moments of panic stirred her fear again. He rubbed her back in a soothing circle and she laid her head down on his shoulder, letting her eyes drift shut. He would take care of her tonight, and she would let him. She couldn't remember the last time she had let someone take care of her, the last time she had had that option. She was the Slayer, and the world rested on her shoulders, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to rest.

Spike climbed smoothly to his feet, shifting her weight in his arms. She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collarbone, making no effort to do anything other than cling like film wrap. Breathing in his soothing scent. She let him carry her into the living room.

She heard him and her friends talking, but their voices seemed far away as she drifted in that haze between asleep and awake. She was so exhausted, he was so solid. She closed her eyes and let the darkness drag her down, hold him close.

"How is she?" Giles asked.

"She's tired, emotionally exhausted."

Spike's voice sounded raw and rough and angry. On her behalf. That was comforting in a strange twisted way. She nuzzled her face into his neck so she didn't have to see anyone else and just concentrated on the nice, soothing feelings she was getting from him.

"Something interfered with the spell, Spike. An outside force. I'm concerned about her mental stability. I hadn't expected her to fight it like that; we had expected you both to pass out. The bond, is it still complete? Do you think she'll be alright?" Spike growled low in his chest, a rumbling they might not have even heard. Made her think of a cat. A big jungle cat that could rip your throat out.

"I still feel the same. I think all she needs is sleep Watcher, but I'm not sure." She heard them standing, shuffling. Willow was sniffling, perhaps she had been crying. Xander said something soft to her and the door opened.

"I'm leaving my number by the phone, Spike. Please call us if things get worse, or if either of you need anything at all." He hesitated. "I'm sure you don't want to leave Buffy, I left some blood in the fridge, it's human, from the hospital."

The door clicked softly leaving them alone again and Spike carried her up the stairs. He pulled the covers down, laid her on her bed and pulled away. Her eyes shot open.

"Where are you going?" Her voice held the tight edge of renewed panic. He mustn't leave her.

"I'm getting the first aid kit for your hands. I'll be right back Buffy, I'm not going anywhere." Good as his word, he returned and knelt by the bed. She watched with hooded eyes while he carefully applied ointment and wrapped her hands.

He stood and slipped her shoes off her feet one at a time, placing them carefully by the bed. He crossed to her dresser, pulling open two drawers before he found the one with her pajamas and pulled out a lacy slip. He knelt by the bed again.

She watched him while he unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. She was too tired to feel embarrassment. Even when his eyes darkened at the sight of her red panties. She let him pull her to a sitting position and pull her shirt over her head. He quickly removed her bra and slipped the nightgown over her head, sweeping his hand along the back of her neck to free her hair.

He bent and placed a gentle kiss right over her bite mark before he laid her back down, pulling her gown over her hips and down her legs. He stood again, whipped off his shirt and climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over both of them. She turned into the crook of his arm, pushing her face in his neck again. His arms came around her again and she instantly fell asleep.


	9. Don't Touch Me

**Don't Touch Me!**

The smell of Slayer blood woke him. Buffy was curled around him, one of her legs between his, her breasts pressed up against him. His face was buried against her soft sweet neck. He groaned out loud, immediately overwhelmed. Her blood was pumping away. Singing to him like the Siren's.

 

He lay there for a few moments, struggling with his demon before slowly climbing out of bed, careful not to wake her. He hadn't fed. If he bit her now he wouldn't stop, and the thought of her, cold and lifeless, calmed his demon somewhat. He needed to hunt. He was down the stairs and almost to the door before he began to worry.

 

What if she woke up while he was gone and she panicked again? He'd only be gone a fucking hour, he'd just eat the first person he came across and be right back. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and agonized. What if she needed him? He had promised he wasn't going anywhere. Christ on a cross! Vamps were not supposed to have these sorts of problems.

 

Then he remembered that the Watcher had left blood in the fridge. Blood out of a bag, how pathetic was that? He wondered how bad it would taste even as he made his way into the cheery Summers kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grimaced at the dozen bags of blood. Clearly from the hospital, marked with blood type.

 

He grabbed one and frowned at the microwave. It would be better warm. Would the plastic melt? He poured it into a heavy mug, squeezing the bag for the dregs before tossing it in the microwave for three minutes. He had no idea how long it took for blood to warm. About half way through he got nervous and opened the microwave to check on it. Good thing, too, because the damn cup was hot to the touch. Too hot.

 

He was out of alcohol. He'd had blood mixed with Bourbon often enough, probably wouldn't taste so bad. Christ, he was the Poof! Buffy was domesticating him! No, this was a one time thing. Just until she felt better.

 

To hell with it, he raised his mug in a silent toast to Buffy and steadily chugged it like a drunken frat boy. Might as well get it over with. It was hotter than it should be, but not the worst thing he’d ever had in his mouth. It tasted like normal blood, but it lacked the flavor of the kill, the struggle, the smell of fear. The taste of skin. It was boring.

 

He grabbed another bag, refilling the cup. He tried setting the microwave for sixty seconds and paced until the bell signaled. He drained that one as well, clicking the class hard on the counter when he was done, and tossed the empty blood bags in the bin. That was that then. Four hours of his night, reduced to twenty minutes of drinking quick.

 

No reason to stay down here, maybe his sweet Slayer would be in the mood to reward him for his saintly behavior.

 

He paused at the stairs, turned to go outside instead. He threw open the boot and rummaged around for his bag of clothes. Couldn't wear these jeans forever. Needed to wash Slayer blood out of his shirt. He slammed the lid closed and braced his hands on the back of the car.

 

His very distinctive car had been parked here for two nights straight. If the whole demon community didn't know where he was it was a soddin’ miracle. Not that he gave a toss about them, but he didn't want Dru to get wind of it. If she found out he had spent the night at the Slayer's she was as good as lost to him. In point of fact, if he didn't figure out how to cut the Slayer loose she was lost to him anyway. To add insult to injury, he didn't have any more booze.

 

He briefly considered just running up the street to the quickly mart. He could eat the girl behind the counter and help himself to some scotch. But he wasn't hungry and didn't want to leave his Slayer. It was nothing compared to the other night, but he still felt her tugging at him across the distance and saw no reason why he shouldn’t go to her.

 

He took the stairs two at a time but paused in the doorway to her bedroom, leaning against the door jam and working the problem through his mind. She was sprawled in bed, on her back, arms flung out. He'd only been gone thirty minutes, but his absence had made her restless. One leg was sticking out of the comforter. Golden and impossibly long. His cock grew hard as he stood there for a long stretch just watching her breathe.

 

She was beautiful. All tawny and sweet. Did he want to keep her? Of course he didn't. She was the bloody Slayer, and he hated her. He loved Dru. His mad temptress. This tenderness he had for Buffy was just his demon being possessive of his mate. He needed to find a way to end this and get his dark princess back.

 

The awful truth was that in the last two days he had barely thought of Dru. He was more worried than anything else. By now he should be craving the dark passion they shared, her blood. Drusilla didn’t even enter into the equation, she wasn't who he wanted right now. He wanted a golden goddess. And he could have her if he wanted. That thought had his libido kicking him in the gut and he had to bite his lip to keep silent.

 

He racked his brain trying to think of a way to fix this whole mess. He had been counting on the Watcher. The man was bloody brilliant. He had a witch at his disposal and all the resources of the flamin’ Council. His spell had flopped in the worst possible way. Spike had felt as if his very demon was being ripped from his body.

 

Worse, he had never been more desperate in his whole sodding existence as when he thought he was losing his mate. Made no sense whatsoever. After all, it's what he wanted. His instincts had taken over and he had been frantic to get to her. And Buffy, Christ on a cross, she’d lost it. Humans, even Slayers, weren't built to withstand that sort of trauma.

 

The memory of his girl shrieking and banging her fists on a wall as solid as the invitation barrier made him shake with remembered rage.

 

He had wanted to kill them all. Rip out their spines and bleed them dry. If Buffy hadn't been absolutely hysterical he would have torn them apart. Starting with the Watcher and ending with the whelp.

 

Luckily, by the time she had finally calmed down the rational side of his brain, such as it was, had kicked in.

 

His Slayer would never forgive him if he hurt her friends. She loved them completely without reservation. If he was honest with himself, he knew that they wouldn't willfully hurt her. But would he place his Slayer in their hands again? There was no plan B. He had no idea who else to go to for help with this.

 

Once upon a time, he would have gone to Angelus, but his soul had changed him and Spike couldn't count on him anymore. When Angelus got wind of this mischief there was going to be a brawl. It was going to be bloody and quite possibly only one of them would walk away from it.

 

Spike intended to live forever.

 

He wouldn't dream of taking his Slayer anywhere near any of the dark wizards that he might be able to wangle a favor from. That left the Watcher and the witch. If he didn't let them help him then she was his until one of them died. Slayers didn't live long, but that thought didn't comfort him. He'd do anything to protect her.

 

Strangely enough, he had no desire to turn her either. The bond was with living, breathing Buffy. If he turned her, that Buffy would die and be replaced by a demon. The thought made his gut clench and his body shake.

 

The thought of losing his girl propelled him into the room. He ignored the voice in his head that told him his problems would be solved if she were gone. One bite, a long drink, and back to his old life with a third Slayer to his name.

 

The thought of it literally ached down deep low. He went with his gut and right now it was telling him to hold on tight while he could, and to safeguard her no matter what.

 

He climbed into bed and pulled her body into his arms. Instantly he felt complete, content. Damn, this mating bond was powerful stuff. He buried his face in her luscious hair and breathed in her sweet, warm scent. The feel of her silken skin sliding up against him overwhelmed his senses and he let loose a low moan, running his hand down her back to her high, firm bum.

 

He turned his head and nuzzled her neck. Breathing deep, caressing her ass, before he gave into the craving and began to place urgent wet kisses on her skin. He felt her beginning to wake and ran his hands firmly over her silken body and into her hair, wrapping it in his fists, twisting her slightly so he could have better access to her collarbone, her shoulders. All of it lovely and soft and kissable.

 

The taste of her was mesmerizing. He could lick and tease and taste her skin for days. Jesus. She made some sort of soft sound, maybe half awake words, and pushed back into his touch and he shuddered with the power of her surrender.

 

Her eyes fluttered open, hypnotizing they were, soft and placid with sleep. He didn’t give her time to think it through, remember how wrong this all was. Instead he used his weight to push her down into the mattress and he kissed her full on the mouth.

 

He half expected her to snap back to Bitch Buffy and resist him. To maybe be passive and sleepy and let him love on her. The way she kissed him back instead had him reeling with the power of it. Tongues tangling in a dance as old as time. Her body rocking with him in that ancient rhythm. Just a few breathless moments and he lost what little control he had.

 

Too much damn clothing between her skin and his. He had to feel more of her. He tried to slide the silky thing she had on down her shoulders but he couldn't think with his leg between hers, rocking against her heat. Her honeyed tongue in his mouth, drugging him with the heady taste of lust and want.

 

So he gave up and ripped the damn thing down the front. He could hear himself talking, even as he worshiped her breasts with his mouth. He knew he ought not to babble, who knows what would slip out of his mouth while he was drowning in the spell of desire that was dragging him under deep. He couldn’t find an ounce of him that cared.

 

Her hands were tugging at him, as desperate as he was. In his hair, on his shoulders, pulling him closer. She was making those little cries and moans of pleasure that drove him crazy. When she started fumbling with the button of his jeans he lost whatever tiny measure of restraint he had and gave himself over to the experience. Maybe he could get away with coming to bed naked after all, he thought, as she made a frustrated sound and got violent with the fastening.

 

Spike managed to pant out something about fucking her tight little box even as he pulled back long enough to shuck out of his jeans. He thought maybe he ought to curb the dirty talk a little bit, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He thought he ought to say something sweet, so he followed that up with some stupid twaddle about her soft, sweet tits that probably wasn’t sweet at all.  

 

Finally naked, he pulled her down on him, kissing her again, pulling those soft swollen pretty pink lips in his mouth and running his tongue along her slick wet mouth. He wrapped himself around her squirming warmth and coaxed her legs open with his knee so she could straddle him.

 

He forced himself to pull back a bit so he could admire her. Lovely, smooth legs spread wide over his thighs. Her golden hair framing her perfectly sculpted body. Proud little titties standing at attention.

 

Her dusty rose nipples were still hard and wet from his ministrations earlier, making his mouth water with the remembered taste of them. And those panties of hers were driving him insane. He was about to rip them off her and slip inside when she wrapped one deadly hand around his weeping cock. He let out a low, surprised groan and jerked his hips at the pleasure.

 

Any hope of censoring his language went by the wayside as she shifted a little further back for balance and began to use her hand to stroke him slowly.

 

In between calling her sweetheart, babbling about how good it felt, and thrusting uncontrollably into her touch, he managed to instruct her to be a little rougher with him, to use that fist to stroke him firm and steady how he liked.

 

She took to it like a duck to water and had had him almost begging in seconds for her to hurt him just a little bit better as he bucked up into her touch. The skin on her hands was so soft that his entire body twitched and surged with the intensity of it, all while she watched her hand glide over him, a look of fascination on her lovely features.

 

At his urging she swiped her silky palm over the head of his cock, wetting it with his weeping fluids and slid it back down, twisting her wrist to spread the slick and keep the firm grip he wanted. 

 

At risk of getting staked or slapped, he gathered up a fistful of silky hair and pulled just hard enough to encourage her in the right direction. He wasn’t stupid enough to yank her down but he did tell her in exact detail how much he wanted those pink, kiss swollen lips wrapped around his prick.

 

She gave him a slow soft smug smile, seeming to realize she held all the power in this equation, before planting a gentle experimental kiss on the very tip of his cock. He held nothing back, letting a desperate string of endearments spill from his lips as he rocked his hips up to meet her. That beautiful, long, pink tongue swiped out and tasted him as she continued to stroke him and Spike lost all control, begging his goddess in a broken voice to please please please continue to tongue his cock.

 

She teased him for an eternity, or a moment, or an hour, with soft licks and kisses before she opened that lovely mouth and pulled his cock inside. He was dying again. She was setting his lust on fire with the warm cavern of her incredible mouth and he felt sure he would combust.

 

She slowly sank her candy, kiss-swollen lips as far down as she was comfortable before working her way back to his tip, following with her fist, so gentle and wet and warm that he almost died from the sweet agony of it. He forced his eyes to stay open, despite the pleasure making him almost delirious. He didn’t want to miss a moment of his lovely lady straddling him with his cock in her mouth, so fucking sexy it ought to be illegal.

 

It took every bit of willpower he had not to ram up into her throat and fuck her pretty mouth till he came. Instead he forced himself to keep his hand in her hair gentle, to keep his encouragement verbal, his movements shallow. It was completely worth his restraint as he watched his sweet, lovely Slayer gain confidence, suck him deeper, tongue him harder.

 

He felt his balls tighten, his lust spiral, his control waning. He was going to cum in her mouth like a fucking teenage amateur if he didn’t take control of the situation. As much as he would love to shoot in her mouth, feel her swallow down his ecstasy, he wanted to take her with him even more.

 

He tightened his hold on her hair and pulled her away from his cock, her round lips releasing him with a wet pop. He gripped her arms roughly, all semblance of restraint gone, and tossed her onto her back. She bounced with a delighted laugh and he pounced on her, covering her body with his and smashing his lips to hers.

 

He ripped her panties off her body and pulled her legs around him, sliding home with one deep thrust. She was so hot he thought he might burst into flames. Hot and wet and so fucking tight. He had to growl and clutch her hips to keep from cumming then and there.

 

She arched up to meet him, tilting her hips to take him deeper, clawing at his back and chanting his name as he pushed into her deep and hard, pulling almost completely out and then all the way back in. Her tight little muscles pulled at his cock so hard that if she hadn't been sopping wet he wouldn't have been able to move at all.

 

She rocked hard with him, her breasts pressing against him, her hips slamming into his. He changed the angle of her hips so that he was brushing up against her clit and she went wild, tossing her head and crying out loudly.

 

Her orgasm hit her hard, left her keening and shaking. Her muscles clamped down around his prick, sending him to new heights of pleasure. He went sloppy with lust, losing his rhythm but stabbing deeper. She wrapped those thighs around his hips and locked those feet around his ass forcing him to keep up with her thrusts as he fucked her through a second orgasm. 

 

The sight of her beneath him, panting and wet and pink and _his_ had his lust spiking so bad that he had almost no technique at all. Instead he clung to her, biting and licking and touching all that soft skin until he could hold out no longer and thrust his way to completion.

 

It was so fucking overpowering that he might have lost consciousness.

 

One minute he was pulsing inside her, the next he was opening his eyes and had his head buried in between her lovely tits. She was shaking all over and so was he. He shifted his weight off of her and nuzzled her sweet little mounds. Giving each lovely breast wet kisses and licks as he stroked her silky skin, lost in the haze of post-coital bliss.

 

He realized with a bit of surprise that he was breathing in time with her. He had caught himself doing that more than once. She just smelled so bleedin good that he wanted to breath her in. He was drowning in her scent and her taste. This was his own personal heaven. When he was this close to her she surrounded his senses and he couldn't think about anything else.

 

He was beginning to consider round two, running his hand lazily over her hip and her thigh when he found himself on his back, three feet away from the bed.

 

"What the fuck all is your bloody problem?" He roared, jumping to his feet. She pulled the blanket up to cover her body as if he hadn't just had his hands and mouth all over her.

 

"I told you this couldn't happen again!" She spat. Her lovely eyes were flashing in warning. She tossed her head and dared him to challenge her.

 

"I wasn't in the bleedin' bed alone, Slayer!" He growled at her. He stalked back towards the bed, hand rubbing absently over his ribs where her foot had connected. There was nothing gentle about his Slayer. "You wanted it as bad as I did, Princess."

 

"I was half asleep, and a wreck from earlier!" She shouted, coming to her knees, clutching her blanket around her, as righteous as the bloody pope. "And don't call me that!"

 

He snorted in disbelief and crawled across the bed to her, getting up close and personal. "Back off, Spike!" She snapped. She was breathing hard, her heart beating so damn fast it might just burst from her heaving chest.

 

"You're going to have to come up with a better excuse than that, Slayer, I don't think you're even blond enough to believe that load of drivel. And what's wrong with Princess? You sure like to play high and mighty, Luv." He purred at her even as he reached out and stroked that lovely hair that had him so fascinated.

 

He felt the sharp twist of jealousy through the bond and realized with a burst of clarity just what her problem with it was.

 

"I just don't like it!" She snapped. Of course she didn't. He called Dru that sometimes. He grabbed her and kissed her long and hard. It made his head spin the way she kissed him back in spite of herself. She bit his lips, sucked his tongue, and rocked those sinful hips of hers against him. Just like that he was hard and weeping for her again.

 

She finally pulled away panting. Eyes impossibly wide, lips wet and shiny from his kisses, the bond broadcasting her awareness of aching nipples and pulsing quim. "Spike, this is wrong, we can’t do this! What about Drusilla?"

 

"What about her?" He answered and kissed her again, pulling the blanket away from her with a sharp tug and fitting his body against hers, giving in to the want. He felt amped up to eleven with the knowledge that she was his, all his, probably forever. Like there was anywhere in his swirling, mad, possessive thoughts for Dru.

 

He shifted them, stretching out his legs, pulling her in his lap and let his hands run over her slender back. She tossed her head back and let out a little moan, pressing those rock hard nipples into his chest, twisting a little to rub them against him.

 

He kissed her throat and her shoulder, trying to decide just how he wanted her again but she beat him to it. She spread her knees and sank onto his diamond hard prick, enveloping him inside her warm wet heat with one quick movement.

 

He jerked his hips in surprise and desperately clutched her closer, pushing himself in deep. She braced her hands on his shoulders and set a steady pace. It was hard and fast. She came almost immediately, clutching at him sporadically and whimpering, her head buried in his shoulder, biting down savagely as she shuddered through it.

 

Her orgasm triggered his own, waves of pleasure too intense to be real. What was it about this girl that made him react so powerfully? He pulled back to look at her and she met his eyes without fear. That was a big part of it.

 

"Get out," She almost growled, low and threatening. He flexed his hands at her hips and nuzzled her shoulder while he considered just how much he wanted to defy her wishes. Did he feel like going another round? Even the thought stirred his cock. He began to kiss her neck, giving special attention to his mark. The bite that made her his. He liked seeing it there, though he would never admit it to anyone.

 

She twisted against him and made a little mewling sound. She was either going to give in or kick his ass. Either way would be just as much fun. It was a powerful feeling, owning a Slayer. The only problem was she owned him back.

 

He could feel her embarrassment and how tired she was. She needed her rest before she faced her friends tomorrow. Who knew what the Watcher would come up with next? She pushed at him suddenly, breaking contact. "I said get out."

 

It was the sound of almost tears that decided him. He didn't want to make her cry. And he was a soddin’ ponce for caring, but he couldn't help himself. He kissed her softly on her lips in one final act of defiance before whispering a simple, "Fine."

 

He lifted her up off his semi-hard, slick with Buffy juice, prick and laid her on the bed. He’d leered at her a little, all flushed from orgasm and fury. She fumbled for her blanket and pulled it around her, and he repressed a growl. The back and forth of her emotions tilted him like a see-saw. Want and lust one moment, disgust the next. How did she even live in her own twisted head?

 

It hurt when she turned away so she wouldn't have to watch him dress. She was all full of embarrassment and shame now. He didn't like that at all.

 

He was half tempted to pounce on her and make her lose control again, make her forget that she thought this was wrong. Bloody buggering hell! Why the fuck did it even matter? Instead he pulled on his jeans, grabbed his duffle, and left to take a shower.

 

She curled up in bed behind him, buried her head in the pillow. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't care anymore. And if he did, he still wasn't sure what to do about her. Even sharing the most intimate of connections, his Slayer was still a mystery to him.

 


	10. Our Own Special Brand of Normal

**Our Own Special Brand of Normal**

Buffy lay in the hollow place between asleep and awake, where all was good with the world. She felt safe and warm.

 

She hadn't felt safe in a long time. In forever. She was surrounded by Spike's scent and the weight of his strong arms. She was vaguely aware of one leg cast possessively over hers.

 

It felt right.

 

She had a hazy awareness, at the very corner of her consciousness that she should be upset for some unknown reason. But she ignored it and swam in her bliss. Loath to wake fully and bring on the reality of morning.

 

Suddenly, a loud obnoxious blaring filled the room and Buffy groaned at her alarm. Spike leapt to his feet in full game face, scowled at the alarm, and kicked it clear across the room. It smashed against the wall, breaking into wonderfully small pieces, and made a delightful crushing noise.

 

Cobwebs cleared from her head and suddenly her destroyed alarm was not in any way amusing. Sure, she fantasized about breaking it sometimes, but she needed the damn thing and had set it herself.

 

Not to mention, why was Spike standing on her bed, destroying her things, and cursing a blue streak anyway? He was supposed to be downstairs.

 

He was staring down at her. He let the demon slip from his face, but it didn't take his predatory expression with it. He was bare from the waist up, sleep tousled, and entirely too tasty for his own good. She felt herself blushing as she recalled just how he tasted. "That was bloody obnoxious!" he declared decisively, head tilted, eyes a deep shade of blue that she could get lost in.

 

"What are you doing in my room?" She succeeded in the icy cool tone of voice she shot for and smiled inside. He would not get to her. Today, Giles would figure out how to rid her of this bleached moron and she would never think lusty thoughts about Vampires again. Except Angel, because that was as normal as her life got.

 

Vampires, apocalypses, college confusion, and impossible love. Welcome to her world. Still better than being mated to a sadistic soulless creature of the night who knew just how to touch her to make her insides melt and her brain crash.

 

"I was sleeping! Until that bleedin' siren went off," he growled at her. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips. "No respect for the sleep of the living dead, you humans. What was that damn thing?  Some sort of standard issue Vampire torture device issued to all Slayers on completion of boot camp?"

 

Spike made it easy to forget how old he was, with his energy and leather. But he hadn't kept time in over a hundred years. She tried to tell herself it wasn't funny but she couldn't stop the choked laughter that bubbled up in her chest. He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. Something about his face made her think he was messing with her but she went with it anyway because, well, why not?

 

"Yep." She said, smacking the “P” sound, trying to sound as cheery and obnoxious as possible. "We’re planning on getting portable models and hiding them in strategic places throughout the cemeteries." She giggled again at his outraged face, but when he smiled back at her she stopped laughing abruptly. This was not funny; she was not having a fun moment with a vicious killer. "I need to be up, I have classes today."

 

He frowned at her, his whole face contracting into a dark expression, and glanced at the windows. Even with the heavy drapes the sun filtered through giving them a bit of a glow. "It's freakishly early Slayer. When the bloody hell do you sleep?"

 

He was still standing on her bed, and the whole scene was just a little too weird for her. She needed to get up and get dressed, but he was standing there, just looking at her. His head was tilted to the side, arms loose at his hips. As if she was fascinating.

 

She didn't meet his eyes; instead, she focused on the column of his throat. That might have been a mistake. Because she found herself riveted by the hollow in the center. He swallowed and she ripped her gaze away.

 

He met her eyes, and she wanted to hit him. He was smirking at her again, he knew. He knew how he affected her. She fumbled in her head for words and some little soft sound came out of her mouth. She tore her eyes away from his so she could concentrate and stared at her bedspread instead.

 

"This is when the living are up and about. Every once in awhile I like to pretend I'm just one of them." Where did that come from? She looked up at him in alarm as he dropped down next to her cross legged. Her body hummed at his nearness, but he kept his hands to himself. She needed to lighten the mood. Serious talks with Spike, with vague references to her insecurities, were so not of the good.

 

"Can't take night school, too busy slaying and saving the world, and getting bitten." That came out too serious and bitter still. So she gave a small smile, and he mirrored it.

 

"Being normal is boring, Summers. At least your life is exciting. I mean, do you really want to hole up with some average bloke, get some boring desk job, and squeeze out a couple of pups?" His eyes were dancing mischievously and she realized he was teasing her. Well, two could play at that game.

 

"Better than being bonded for life to a serial killer with a penchant for leather." He laughed. Not a full blown giggle or anything like that, just a soft chuckle. He turned his head a little and then swiveled his head to look back at her.

 

"Check and mate, Summers." He curled his tongue under his teeth in that way of his and she prayed he didn't notice when her breathing sped up. "So today we figure out how to get divorced, huh? You can get back to that normal life of yours. Slaying and college and all that rot." His sarcastic tone was not lost on her. She tossed her head and tried to give him her haughty stare. She wasn't sure she pulled it off. She never was as good as, say, Cordelia, at that sort of thing.

 

"College is normal! I live in the dorms and everything. The teachers are condescending, the guys are asses, and the work is impossible. I'm getting the whole normal experience."

 

He snorted and shook his head at her. "So that's why you live in the dorms of a college that's two miles from home, to get that taste of normal, eh, pet?" Vampires were not supposed to be so damn perceptive, and she found it irritated her. How had he gotten to the heart of the matter so quickly, when her closest friends were so wide off the mark? It put her back up, made her bristle. "Who's been being an ass, want me to eat him?"

 

"I don't see why you care, anyway," she hissed at him, failing miserably at calm and collected. "Like you said, we're most likely getting, how did you put it, divorced today? Then I won't be your problem anymore and we can go back to trying to kill each other, like normal. I'll feel heaps better once I dust you."

 

He laughed at her again, throwing his head back a bit and rolling his eyes. His skin was as thick as rubber tires. Nothing insulted him. She would have to try harder.

 

He reached over her to grab his smokes off the nightstand and her brain shorted out as he brushed up against her with those steel biceps of his. She tried to picture him hitting the gym and couldn’t manage. But he must work out, because muscles like that were not standard Vampire issue. She’d slayed enough paunchy, overweight, balding men to know.

 

He lit a cigarette, and she hated herself for watching with a sick fascination as he put the smoke between his lips and bent his head to the flame. Smoking was gross and disgusting and watching him play with fire was in no way sexy.

 

He seemed to know that her thoughts had derailed and gave her his customary smirk before he blew a fat smoke ring. She bit back the desire to tell him he couldn't smoke in her room. He couldn't go outside and she would rather he smoked in her room than the rest of the house. Her mom would be home tomorrow and she was bound to smell the smoke everywhere.

 

"There is no normal, pet. Just a herd of people scampering about, trying to blend in. They're sheep Summers. It's the people who stand out who make the difference." He blew another ring and leaned back against her headboard, gesturing with his cigarette hand like he was imparting some great discovery. "Truth is, people are more accepting of the deviant than you'd like to think. Look at musicians and movie stars."

 

Buffy frowned at him. What was she doing? Sitting in bed having a friendly chat with the resident vampire. She needed mental help. Unfortunately, any therapist would throw her into a white padded room and give her a fancy new jacket to wear.

 

"I need to change." He raised his eyebrow at her and continued to smoke. "You need to leave." He crossed his feet at the ankles and smirked up at her. She gave him her worst scowl, to no effect, and climbed out of bed with a frustrated huff. He was impossible.

 

She really needed to get some flannel pajamas from the dorm today, she thought, as she fought a blush. Spike definitely noticed what she had on based on his sharp inhale and the kick of lust and awareness that went through the bond like a slamming door.

 

Burning with embarrassment, she scuttled to her dresser, grabbing the necessities and snatching the first dress in her closet before dashing out the door. Thank God for Slayer speed. She risked a glance behind her and found Spike's gaze glued to her, his eyes glazed over with lust. The sight had her fleeing for the bathroom like the hounds of hell were licking at her heels.

 

She stared at herself in the full length bathroom mirror. He probably thought that she had worn this number for him. Pink satin cups pushed her breasts together, little tiny spaghetti straps held them up. The skirt flared from under her breasts but the length was non-existent. It barely brushed her thighs and was made out of almost transparent silk. You could see the matching panties right through it.

 

If she was honest with herself, she felt a surge of feminine pride that she could reduce Spike to speechlessness. God knew that was a rare occurrence. Worse, if she really stopped to examine her motives, she had known that there was a possibility that he might see her, and it had thrilled her last night when she had put it on.

 

She closed her eyes and let herself replay the night before. She let the peculiar mix of shame and excitement wash over her as she remembered the way his hands felt on her, his electric touch. His lips on her skin. He made her feel beautiful and sexy. The way he had spoken to her last night had been beyond erotic. Half sentences of desire. Little growls and moans and the desperate way he had ripped her gown right from her body.

 

Like he needed her beyond all reason.

 

When he touched her he made her feel like she was the only woman on earth, and that he would die without her. But she knew that wasn't true. Knew that Drusilla was who he was in love with, if it could even be called that. Could Vampires even love? He had no soul. Linked to him this way, she knew what he could feel was intense and powerful, but could it be called love?

 

She sank down onto the toilet stool and groaned. She had given him head. She had never tried it before and was kind of horrified that she had so willingly participated in something so dirty.

 

She had no excuse. She had enjoyed it. She had been all caught up in the moment and he had responded so passionately when she had touched him with her hand. Bucking his hips, saying her name and encouraging her.

 

Now she knew why woman gave blowjobs in the first place. Taking him into her mouth had reduced him to babbling, swearing, and begging. He’d called her _baby_ and _sweetheart_ and told her she _sucked cock like a goddess_. How could he say the word cock and make it a compliment? Regardless of his raunchy language there, had been no doubt that she had been doing a good job. 

  
It had been amazing. She had felt all powerful. He had been completely at her mercy and he had liked it.

 

This was so not good. What was she thinking? She couldn't let it happen again. It was beyond wrong. It was immoral! A betrayal to everyone she loved. Spike had tried to kill them all, more than once. He had no remorse for the thousands of people he must have killed and would kill again the minute he left her home. Probably starting with her and her friends.

 

Had he murdered someone last night? Oh God! The edge of his hunger was gone, even if he wasn't full. Had he ripped someone's throat out and then came back and made love to her? No, not making love, sex.

 

What was wrong with her? How could she want someone so evil? And she did want him. Even listing all the reasons she shouldn't in her head she couldn't shake the memory of how he had felt inside her.

 

Filling her up and making her writhe with pleasure. The worst part was that, this time, she couldn't even tell herself that he had seduced her. She had been a willing participant.

 

It would not happen again. She was not going to let him get to her. She was a strong, independent, young woman. She was the Slayer. She was going to be late for class.

 

She showered and dressed quickly and stared at herself in the mirror again. She wished she would have grabbed another dress. This one left an awful lot of skin bare. Not that he hadn't seen it all already.

 

He wasn't in her bedroom anymore, she could feel him somewhere downstairs. Buffy heaved a sigh of relief and made quick work of her hair and make-up. She didn't have time to blow dry her long tresses, so she just wrapped them up in a pony tail.

 

She stared at her hands. Today she would find time to give herself a manicure. She didn't look ragged yet, but slaying was hard on her hands. She dug out a pair of simple yellow sandals to go with her dress and ran downstairs.

 

She was starving. All she had had yesterday was a couple of slices of pizza, and she hoped her mom had stocked something she could eat on the run.

 

Something smelled good. She opened the kitchen door with trepidation and smiled. Waffles. That was the smell. Spike was making waffles. He had hauled out her mother's old waffle iron and somehow produced batter.

 

"Whaddya like on your waffles, Slayer?" he asked, sincere as could be. It should be funny, Spike cooking, but it wasn't. If was nine kinds of fantastic because she was starving.

 

He had put the rest of his clothes on, much to her disappointment. He was wearing a different t-shirt, she could tell because it was faded, and his Doc Martens. His hair once again in order. Still, without his coat, he looked different, more accessible...more kissable. She shoved that thought harshly to the side and focused on what he had asked her.

 

"Just the usual: syrup, butter," she answered, even as she opened the fridge and fished out the butter. "Syrup's above your head there." He got it out for her and set her plate and the syrup on the breakfast bar as she sat down. He grabbed his own waffle and sat next to her as easy as if they had been having breakfast together for twenty years.

 

"Why'd you cook for me?" She bit her tongue even as she said it. He was going to get pissed off or embarrassed. Not that she cared. She didn't. But as usual nothing bothered him. He just shrugged his shoulders.

 

"Hungry aren't you? Everybody likes waffles." He covered his plate with syrup and took a huge bite. "It's good, eat up."

 

So she did. And it was. She put her plate in the growing pile of dishes in the sink. She heaved a visible sigh of relief at the sight of a bloody mug on the counter. She didn’t have to stake him, at least right now. The tension of wondering what he had been up to drained out of her and she was surprised at how much better she felt.

 

She had to go, but she found herself paused awkwardly by the door. She had the strangest urge to lean over and give him a kiss goodbye. How weird was that? "Need a ride to school?" he asked.

 

"It's broad daylight Spike."

 

"Windows are blacked out." She bit her lip and thought about it. She was already late. If she called a cab, it would take forever for them to get there. Xander was probably working. It was a long walk. While she was thinking Spike was already getting his duster on and grabbing a blanket from the living room.

 

"Come on then, Slayer," he called behind him as he dashed out the door and to his car. She pulled the door shut behind her and followed him. He waited for her to close her door before he let the blanket fall down.

 

"How can you see to drive?" He pointed at some small scratches in the paint on the windshield and she groaned. This was probably a very bad idea.

 

"S'ok Slayer. Vampire vision and reflexes." She groaned again and he pulled out of her driveway. She buckled her seatbelt tightly and she didn't talk. She didn't want to distract him from driving.

 

She had no idea if he followed traffic regulations. She couldn't see anything. It felt like they were going too fast. He hummed under his breath and drove with one hand as if he didn’t have a care in the world, casual as hell. She was amazed she didn’t break the door handle she was gripping it so hard. 

 

"This is it, Slayer." He said, the car rolling to a stop. She unscrewed her hand from the door handle and flexed her tense fingers to loosen them up. "Need a ride home later?"

 

Ok, that was freakishly boyfriend like. Demons, Hellspawn, and Vampires were one thing, but that was just plain scary. Everything about this whole situation was just scary. "No, I'll get a ride. Spike, don't answer the phone."

 

She could just see her mom calling and having some strange man answer the phone. Granted, for some odd reason, her mom seemed to like Spike, but not that much. He grinned that unrepentant grin of his and shot his hand out quicker than thought.

 

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss with one smooth motion. His lips were firm and cool, his tongue swept into her mouth and she caught on fire. Just that quickly she was all caught up in the moment. Heat bloomed in her stomach and scorched through her veins and Buffy couldn’t help but lean into him and kiss him back. He unbuckled her belt and she slid across the seat to him. She had to touch more of him.

 

His tongue danced with hers and her head spun. His muscles were firm and impossibly hard beneath her hands. She heard herself moan into his mouth and bit his lip in retribution. Which made him moan back and clutch at her hips harder.

 

He pulled her onto his lap and she didn't resist. She let one leg slide over so that she straddled him, the steering wheel pushing her up against his chest, so close there was barely breathing room between them. She shifted to get even closer, enjoying the feel of him beneath her. He wasn’t going anywhere without her letting him up.

 

He nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip and she bucked her hips. His hands slid down to her thighs and up under her dress, fingers flexing and caressing. He tore his mouth away from hers and met her eyes. Then he deliberately rotated his hips against hers.

 

"I want you Summers. Right now."

 

She was letting it happen again. Buffy pulled some self control out of nowhere and forced herself to focus on something else besides his hardness pressed up against her, the taste of him on her tongue, his warm strong hands on her thighs.

 

"I have to go to class." She whispered, pulling away from him, physically and mentally. He offered no resistance as she scooted off of him, and then scooted all the way over to the door, fixing her skirt, checking her hair. She sat in her own seat, a trembling hand pressed to her lips, and called herself nine kinds of names for getting pulled in so easily. It must be the mating. That must be why his touch disarmed her so much.

 

Oh, who was she kidding? He was an incredible lover. The only problem was that he knew it. She was almost disappointed when he didn't pull her back. They both knew that if he touched her again she wouldn't be able to stop. But he seemed content to let her go.

 

"Best go on then, luv, unless you don't really want to go?" She scowled at him and hopped out of the car, flashing him with sunlight before slamming the door. He yelped and shouted, "Bloody bitch!"

 

She had to restrain herself from asking if he was alright. She didn't care if he was alright. She didn't. He started up the car and she walked away, mentally checking his condition through their bond. She was so pathetic! She needed to look on the bright side. With the ride and everything, if she ran, she might actually make it to class on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the lovely kbeautimous who is doing such a fantastic job with the editing of these chapters. Endless hugs and gratitude.


	11. Bound By Fate

**Bound By Fate**

Classes dragged by. Buffy felt twitchy and uncomfortable. She was well aware of the love mark on her neck carefully concealed by makeup, and her sensitive parts that had been used so well so recently. She was also acutely aware of Spike. She knew when he was laying down, when he was pacing, and finally when he fell back asleep.

 

She missed him. It wasn't the burning need to see him that she had experienced two nights ago. She wasn't having trouble concentrating or having to fight the urge to go see him. She just missed him. That was beyond disturbing.

 

In her last class, Buffy found herself not really paying attention to the lecture, and watching the clock instead. Finally, people began to shuffle around and put their books away, and Buffy realized with a start that class had ended early. Willow leaned into her space and whispered conspiratorially, "Riley watched you all through the lecture."

 

Buffy frowned. Three days ago she would have been thrilled. She might have very well melted into a puddle of girly excitement. He was definitely boyfriendly. Now the first thing that popped into her head was that Spike wouldn't like it. Screw that! She forced herself to turn and give Riley a cheery smile. She didn't want to burn her bridges with attitude.

 

Soon this whole thing would be over and she would be on the prowl for a nice, normal boyfriend again. And you didn't get more normal than corn-fed, polite, Iowa farm-boy Riley. He beamed back at her and she beat a hasty retreat before she actually had to talk to him. Willow caught up to her in the hall.

 

"What was that all about? I thought you liked Riley?"

 

"I do." Buffy fidgeted nervously even as she hurried away from class. She didn't want to chance running into him. "Things are just weird right now."

 

"I called Giles this morning, he wants us to pick up Spike and meet him at the Magic Box." Buffy nodded. Good, they were picking up Spike. She should be annoyed. She tried to make an annoyed face, but was sure she didn't pull it off. She tried being annoyed with herself about the thrill of excitement she was feeling about being on her way to see him again with even less success.

 

"So, uhm, Spike, is he being all Vampiry?"

"Vampiry? Willow, he's definitely a vampire. But he's not acting all Night of the Living Dead or anything. You know Spike, he plays human awfully well. He even drank some of that blood Giles left, which is a good thing, because I'm not sure I'm up to staking him."

 

Willow paused and turned to her, putting on her serious face. "About yesterday, Buffy, I am really sorry."

 

"It's OK, Willow. I'm kinda embarrassed about it, actually. I mean, I don't really know why I acted like that, I just lost my head, I guess."

 

"Oh, oh, oh, don't be embarrassed. We all know it was totally because of the spell. Uhm, what does it feel like? Is it horrible?" Buffy started walking again, trying to decide how much to tell her friend. Finally she sat down on one of the benches and Willow joined her.

 

"It's really kind of intimate. I know what he's feeling and doing, and I know he knows what I'm feeling and doing. Even while he's there and I'm here, I know he's asleep. The really freaky thing about it is, it's kind of nice, actually. Being around him makes me feel all safe and warm, and I don't get that a lot, ya know?" Willow nodded, slightly dumbstruck.

"And he's being weirdly nice to me. You'd think he'd be all giving me a hard time about it, but I guess he feels weird, too. He's all protective and, I don't know, concerned about me. I guess he's used to taking care of Drusilla, and now he wants to take care of me."

 

"So uh, you like it, then?" Buffy could tell that Willow was trying to choose her words carefully; she probably wanted to jump up and run in horror.

 

"Well, it's not torture, but hello, evil dead guy! Arrogant, rude, serial killer in my head. Definitely not of the good."

Willow looked vastly relieved and Buffy gave her a smile. It wasn’t even a lie. It was not of the good that Spike felt so good in her head.

 

"So uh, what kind of nice things? Did he cook again? That seriously wigged me out."

 

"Uh yeah, actually I overslept this morning. We traded insults, he made me waffles while I was in the shower. And um, I was late, so he drove me to school." Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably. She was leaving out a whole boatload of details. This version of events could go on an episode of Sesame Street.

 

"Wow, that's boyfriendly. Wait, it's daylight!"

 

"Don't ask." Xander suddenly popped up behind them, and Buffy was glad that he had missed the beginning of this conversation. After the whole Angel thing, she wasn't sure Xander was the person to talk to about Spike. Actually, she was quite sure that he was not.

 

"So, you girls ready to go? The Xan-Mobile is gassed up and ready to go." Buffy couldn't help but smile, would he never grow up? No, Xander would eternally be immature and silly, and she loved him just the way he was.

 

"Yep." Willow chirped, and Buffy got the impression that she was relieved at the turn of conversation. Not that she could blame her. She just wasn't the same without Oz. Oh, she put on a brave face, but she had wrapped so much of herself in Oz that she had ceased to be her own person. They had been like some kind of weird hybrid, and now that Oz was gone, a big part of Willow was missing. It must be hard to listen to her ramble on about being completed by someone. Buffy hurried to get up and start walking before she examined that thought too closely. 

 

"We need to pick up Spike." At Xander's face she wrinkled her nose at him. "Giles’ orders."

 

"Spike, great," his former liveliness gone. Buffy frowned at Xander's downtrodden words. She hoped he could learn to accept Spike. That thought stopped her cold; she literally stopped walking and gaped like a fish. Her friends turned to her. "Alright there? Buffy?" She smiled and nodded, hurrying to catch up to them. It so didn't matter what Xander thought about Spike, cause this was so very temporary.

 

Despite her best efforts, Buffy couldn't fight the zap of excitement that rushed through her veins when they pulled into the driveway next to Spike's old Desoto. She really didn't see the attraction of a classic as he liked to call it, it was old. But she supposed Spike was old and felt some kind of weird kinship. But it wasn't just him. She'd seen other guys go all slack jawed and glassy eyed over old cars, too. Must just be a guy thing.

 

She was kind of disappointed when Willow and Xander got out of the car to go in with her. But they weren't really the type to wait in the car, and probably had no clue why she might want them to. Xander raided the kitchen and Willow followed her up the stairs. She found herself hesitating slightly, blushing. She knew Spike was in her bed. Had slept there because it smelled like her. What would Willow think?

 

Oh well, it couldn't be helped. She could have hollered for him at the bottom of the stairs and he would have come. But it was too late now. She opened her door and walked in with false confidence. She just hoped he wasn't naked. His lack of pajamas was making her think he might be keeping those jeans on at bedtime for her benefit. The thought of Spike sleeping naked had her fighting a blush, and she just prayed that Willow didn’t notice.

 

He was sprawled out on the comforter in just his jeans. Belly down, head turned on her pillow. His bare back was all smooth lines and muscle. The long furrows she had left the other night were gone, to be replaced by fading finger shaped bruises on his forearms and a fading redness where she had bitten him. His hair was strangely ordered; apparently it took wicked sex to bring out his curls. After all, he didn't move when he slept.

 

He was completely still. It was unnerving. He was so animated when he was awake. Pacing and fighting and smirking and kissing. And now he was completely motionlessness. No breath stirred his breast, no twitch in his ivory skin. Outside of asleep, she didn't think she'd ever seen him still.

 

There was no reflection of him in her dresser mirror. It unsettled her, and she reached out and touched him, as if to prove to herself that he was there, that he was real and solid. She trailed her fingers from the nape of his neck, down his spine over the waistband of his jeans and cupped the swell of his ass. He immediately woke to her touch and watched her with hooded azure eyes that pierced right through to her soul. He was real. More real than anything else in the room, in her world.

 

Willow made a surprised sound and Buffy realized, much to her horror, that she had completely forgotten about the presence of her friend. She jerked her hand away too fast to be natural and sheepishly looked over at Willow. Her friend had a shocked and curious look on her face. And a touch of longing. Willow noticed her looking and put her resolved face on.

 

Buffy resigned herself to in-depth conversation. Willow might be oblivious sometimes, but she wasn't blind. The way she had touched this Vampire was the way a woman touched her lover, there was no mistaking it. The possessive, sure sweep of her hand, the calm way he accepted her touch, spoke volumes more than any words.

 

Spike rolled over onto his back and reached for his cigarettes. "Giles wants us at the Magic Box." He nodded and propped himself up against the headboard, lighting a smoke. Completely at ease in her bed, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. Willow perched nervously on the bench of her vanity table and Buffy narrowed her eyes at the way that her friend kept looking at Spike.

 

Not like she'd never seen a bare chested man before. She had been lovers with Oz. Just to keep herself busy, she went to the closet and got out her weapons bag. She checked the contents even though she already knew what was in there. She ignored the thin stream of amusement she got from Spike. He knew she was uncomfortable and just keeping busy. Screw him. She dug some workout clothes out of her dresser and tossed them in the bag. Her internal language had definitely taken a turn for the worst since she had become linked to him.

 

"Got time for a shower?" Spike asked, snubbing his cigarette out in a pop can. The stink of smoke was going to linger in her room forever.

 

"You sure wash a lot for a Vampire." She snapped. He wasn't nearly as bothered by this whole thing as he ought to be. She'd obviously been being too nice to him. He was getting all comfortable, in her house, in her bed.

 

"Vampires don't eat, Vampires don't wash." He mimicked in a high pitched tone of voice. "The poof may have given you some odd preconceptions about Vamps, but I know for a fact that he was clean." He smirked up at her, eyes almost flirting. He was obnoxious and she couldn't believe she had ever let him touch her in the first place. He frowned suddenly. "Well, other than that hundred year stint of grungy guilt he dwelled on while he adjusted to his shiny new soul. Pathetic, that was."

 

"I'd really rather you didn't talk about Angel. You really didn't know him at all." Buffy was proud of her flippant tone. Not so proud of the fact that she had to work to achieve it around him. It should come easy. "He was completely different than Angelus."

 

"That right? I know him a lot better than you think little girl. He hid a lot from your innocent sweet eyes." His smirk came back full blown. And she was hard pressed not to focus on his full, surprisingly soft, lips. She met his eyes instead and that might have been a mistake because they touched her deep inside and made her hum. "So are you trying to tell me that the great and powerful Angel didn't have good hygiene?"

 

Willow suddenly broke in, ever the peacemaker. "Giles didn't say it was urgent. I'm sure you could shower before we go." Spike nodded to Willow, glided to his feet, and sauntered from the room without giving her a second glance.

 

Willow turned to her friend and smiled far too sweetly. "Soooo, was it just me or was Spike sporting a nice bite mark? I'm sure it wasn't there yesterday."

 

"Shhh, he'll hear you," she hissed. The shower started up. Would he be able to hear them talk over the shower? Cause there was going to be talking. No way was Willow going to let this go. Buffy was feeling much kinder towards her friend all of a sudden. She had been staring at the bite mark, not his wonderfully lickable chest.

 

"The shower’s on Buffy, he can't hear us." Willow crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

 

"I'll tell you all about it later, but I'm not sure he can't hear us. I so don't want to discuss this in front of him." She frowned. "Besides, Spike is freakishly quick in the shower."

 

Buffy grabbed her bag and headed downstairs. Even Willow wouldn't pressure her to talk about something like this in front of Xander. The three of them sat at the table, the atmosphere comfortable. Xander was throwing popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth while he and Willow did the I’ve known each other forever friend thing that always made Buffy feel a little left out.

 

Spike entered the room silently. She had told Willow that she was over the whole bad boy thing. That she wanted a nice wholesome boyfriend, normal and slay free, like Riley. She'd lied. The way Spike moved gave her the lowdown tinglies. He was violence walking. Like a deadly panther, all graceful and sure. His cocky strut just screamed, fuck with me, I dare you. Each move he made, precise and lethal. He exuded danger and sexuality. He knew it too.

 

"Ready, kiddies?" He drawled in his distinct accent. She would never admit, even to herself, that it gave her the shivers every time she heard him speak. Long before this whole weird bond thing. Nope, some things should never be acknowledged or spoken, ever. Xander bristled at his tone and, of course, being referred to as a kiddie. You'd have to be an ancient old man to not be a kid to Spike, who would most likely live forever.

 

Spike had a blanket tossed over one arm and his keys in his other hand. Obviously, he meant to drive his own car, and it made sense. If they managed to separate today he wouldn't want a reason to have to come back here. And she didn't care. She wanted to be rid of him as much as he wanted to be rid of her.

 

She did.

 

Xander guffawed in amusement when Spike made his mad dash to his car. Buffy didn't think it was funny, it was foolish. Courting his own death that way. Of course what else would she expect from a Vampire who purposely sought out the Slayer because she was a challenge?

Buffy was disgusted with herself when she actually took a second to consider which car to get in. She slammed Xander's door a little harder than she ought to and he made a wounded sound.

 

Xander drove the speed limit, and Spike drove disturbingly close to his rear bumper. Just what did Spike intend to do if he got pulled over in broad daylight? Probably would consider it a challenge. Freak.

 

The interior of the Magic Box was cheery and familiar. Giles sat at a corner table, surrounded by his books. He would figure this out. One of life's few certainties was that she could depend on Giles. The nervous look he gave her was not at all reassuring, and Buffy swallowed hard, holding onto her faith in him by her fingernails.

 

She sat down next to him and smiled. Spike tossed his blanket over the chair next to her and sprawled out in the seat. Buffy sniffed at him and tossed her hair. He just grinned at her and ran his tongue over his teeth. He was so annoying. "So, hunted down a cure for us yet, Giles?"

 

"What you have isn't a disease, Buffy." He took off his glasses and looked seriously at them both. Uh oh, this was not of the good. "How are you two doing?"

 

"Don't dance around the question, Watcher." Spike's tone of voice was low and ominous, his previous good humor forgotten. "Do you have a soddin' solution, or should I start searching elsewhere?"

 

"Do you have other sources?" Giles replied, voice sharp and hard. His earlier forced friendliness overblown by his natural hostility.

 

"Nowhere I'd take my Slayer." Giles snapped his pencil in half. He took a deep breath and unclenched his fist.

 

Xander and Willow finally sat down. Giles hadn't missed Spike calling her _his_. She should be pissed off, but she felt his alarm in her head and knew he hadn't meant to say it that way. Hadn't meant to claim her out loud. She had found herself calling him _hers_ several times in the last couple of days. Of course, her friends thought that he had done it to irritate. Spike turned and frowned at her, he surely could feel her amusement despite her straight face.

 

"Then we had best get right to what I've found." Giles eyes softened when he turned to her. "It's quite disturbing, actually. Have you eaten?"

 

"No, why?" She questioned, alarm pounding through her pulse. Quite disturbing? What was disturbing?

 

"Because it's probably best if you eat before I tell you." Buffy felt the blood drain from her face. This did not sound pleasant. Spike's hand twitched on his leg and Buffy knew he was fighting the urge to touch her. Giles dug out his wallet. "Xander, Willow. Perhaps you could get us some sandwiches from down the road?"

 

Her two friends walked out silently, side by side. He placed his glasses firmly on his nose and leaned in on his elbows. "Now Buffy, really how are you feeling? I was very worried about you yesterday. Your reaction to the spell leads me to believe that this connection between you two runs much deeper than we originally thought." He looked very uncomfortable. "I must apologize to you, dear; I rather rushed into that spell because of the disturbing state I found things that morning."

 

"So you sent the kiddies away to chat about the sex?" Spike drawled bluntly, while dipping into his pockets for his cigarettes. Chain smoker, much? "It was a temporary side effect, if that's what's got you all bollixed up." Giles paled.

 

Buffy didn't realize she had swung until her fist was crashing towards his arrogant, smirking face. He must have sensed her coming, because he shoved himself back away from the table, dropping his cigarettes and falling gracelessly. "Bloody hell, bitch!" He glared up from the floor with his sapphire eyes sparkling with anger. "What?"

 

She jumped up and aimed a kick at his midsection. What? What? She would show him what. He caught her ankle, twisted it and sent her sprawling too. By the time she had leapt to her feet he had gotten up as well. They squared off and Buffy was about to seriously get down to kicking his undead ass when Giles interrupted. "That's quite enough, you two; there really isn't time for this."

 

He sighed dramatically and they both sat down, a seat between them, and Spike glaring menacingly. Buffy wished she could do something about her burning face. She couldn’t believe that bleached moron would bring up having sex with her to her watcher. Her watcher! She might just sink through the chair and melt into a puddle of pure embarrassment. "Are there any other side effects I should be aware of? Honesty is critical here. I can't fix it if I don't know what I'm dealing with."

 

She stared at Spike and he stared back. She had explained the way she felt as best she could to Giles before. Spike reached down and snatched his cigarettes off the floor. "It's really intense, Giles, I feel…" He'd said honesty was important but she wished Spike wasn't here listening to every word. "Close to him." She finished lamely. Spike blew smoke over the table and arched his back, like a big cat stretching.

 

"I'm channeling her loyalties and feelings." Buffy nodded smartly. That was probably important. Giles leaned back and waved his hand as if for Spike to continue. Spike wore his look of disgust openly. "Couldn't hurt the lot of you if I wanted to. Feel all warm and fuzzy towards you. It's stronger when the Slayer's with me. It's not nearly as strong as she feels, I think, more like an echo, an impression. But it's more concentrated today than it was yesterday."

 

"Yeah, I've noticed the same thing, and I'm protective and sympathetic towards him, too."

 

"But are there negative things?" Giles paused, took off his glasses and faced her resolutely. More negative than feeling warm and fuzzy towards a cold blooded killer? How much more negative could there be in the world? "Buffy, are you craving blood?" He asked baldly. He couldn't have shocked her more if he had told her that Harmony had wings and was planning the next apocalypse.

 

"What? No, Giles! No! The worst thing is just that it's Spike. If it wasn't Spike, it might actually be kind of nice. But it's Spike. But no, no blood cravage of any kind. No! Giles, I would have told you something like that." Buffy knew she was rambling, but she was horrified. Giles had thought she might be craving blood, and yet had left her alone with only a Vampire for company. How sick was that?

 

"Calm down, Rupert. She's not turning into a bloody demon!" Spike stood and walked behind her chair. She startled violently when he laid his hands on her. He ran his calloused fingers up her arms and rested his hands on her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She realized she was leaning into his touch and stiffened back up. He stepped away from her and paced.

 

She felt calmer, but infinitely more embarrassed. He had, after all just told her watcher, her watcher of all people, that they had slept together. She had known that he knew, but she would have rather it never be spoken of out loud. It added a whole extra layer of meaning to being touched by Spike in front of Giles.

 

Giles gave Spike a very dirty look but looked relieved against his will. He opened his mouth to speak but Xander and Willow came bumbling in the door with two bags from the sandwich shop. Everyone dug in; they had even picked up a sandwich for Spike. He sat again and munched with them. Xander and Willow made silly jokes and Xander snorted pop through his nose.

 

"This is the crack team that foils my every plan? I am deeply shamed." Spike muttered, shaking his head. Buffy found herself smiling at him and stopped abruptly.

 

Finally Giles cleared his throat and reached for one of his books. "Remember I mentioned that there were other references to the original prophecy? I believe now that they are actually related more to the results. In fact, I have confirmed seventeen separate citations referring to your current condition. In truth, I have found countless obscure references that may point to this event as well."

 

"You comin' to a point anytime soon, Watcher?" Spike asked, using his foot to push his chair back on its hind legs. Giles glared at him and Spike ignored it, lighting yet another cigarette. "Night's falling, I got places to be."

 

"Oh no!" Xander exclaimed. "We’re talking apocalypse now, aren't we?" Willow gasped and sat up stiff as a board, her mouth a concerned little “o.”

 

"I'll admit that there are dire portends that refer to the ‘Slayer's blood bond’, and ‘enemies bound by purpose’ Which was the exact phrasing of the original prophecy. Also there are references to ‘the chosen’s mate,’ a word you brought up, Spike,” Giles shot Spike another filthy look before continuing. "Also of interest was a reference to ‘the Vampire's light with a beating heart.’ There are other things that are more vague, but may fit as well."

 

He sat the book down and removed his glasses. That was three removing of the glasses incidences in one briefing. This must be very serious. "These could advocate a single event or a series of events. The fact is that this requires further research before I designate any course of action. I believe that it would be disastrous to sever this bonding. Until I know more, I think it imperative that things remain as they are."

 

Spike crashed to the floor as Buffy jumped to her feet and cried, "What? You are so kidding with me, aren't you, Giles?" He shook his head at her and she stood helplessly, her mouth open in shock.

 

"You can't be serious! You can't propose you just leave us like this?" Spike snarled rather savagely and leapt up to stand behind her. He radiated hostility and she couldn't fault him.

 

"I am not just going to keep the Slayer, you bleedin’ idiot." His voice was low and threatening again, and Buffy shivered. His rage washed through her, picked up her own panic and upset and magnified everything. She found herself trying to push down her emotions, trying to get control so she could get control of him. It was a useless exercise. There was no way they could just stay like this!

 

"Spike, calm down," Giles said wearily, with far too much patience. "I'm not saying forever, just until we make sure that ending it is in the best interest of everyone."

 

Spike smashed his foot into the table, sending the table, books, and sandwiches flying. Amazingly, it didn't hit any of her friends and she realized with a flinch that he hadn't meant it to. He spun and grabbed a shelf, sending it airborne as well.

 

"Spike, that's enough." She said quietly. He visibly struggled with himself. His need to please her warring with his need to destroy things in his frustration. Finally he threw up his hands and strode towards the door with a, "Bugger this."

 

She ran to catch up with him. "Spike, where are you going?"

 

"Gonna go kill something, Slayer. Being hungry makes me edgy." She stepped resolutely in his way.

 

"Let's get something clear right now, Spike. You are not going to slaughter innocent people and live. I am the Slayer, and I will do my duty."

 

"That right?" He smirked and got up close to her. "You’re not gonna do anything to me, you haven't the stones."

 

"I shoved a sword through the stomach of my soulmate. I won't shed any tears over your dust, Vampire." She hissed back, putting some steel behind the threat. He needed to know she meant business.

 

"Yeah, to save the world sweetheart. But for some barmy thug? Some idiot stupid enough to walk the streets after sunset? They're asking for it, Goldilocks. It's what I do."

 

She stepped closer to him and tilted back her head so she could look him in the eye. "Giles, get some chains. I'm taking blood breath here down."

 

He gripped her waist, hard. Pulling her lower body into his. She could feel proof of his arousal pressing firmly into her pelvis and her breath caught. His voice was low and rough, pitched for her ears alone. "That an invitation, luv? Fighting s'not the only way I can think of to burn off tension."

 

She gripped the lapels of his coat and pulled him even closer. "I'm serious Spike, you're itching for a fight I'll serve it up. But the blood of the innocent is out."

 

His mouth was inches from hers, his eyes hard as glass. Her heart was beating so fast; surely it must sound like a drum to him. His hands softened at her waist, his fingers flexed possessively, and his thumbs rotated in a smooth circle. She pushed him hard and he stumbled away from her. "We've got blood at my house, we'll get as much as you need."

 

He cocked his head to one side, a feral look to him. "And if I want it straight from the tap?"

 

"Shit in one hand, want in the other. We'll see which one fills up first." Willow made a squeaking sound at her language and Buffy turned, blushing. Giles had a look of disapproval on his face as well. The table was destroyed and they were still all in their seats, shocked expressions intact. Spike reached up and stroked her neck, his thumb brushing firmly over his bite mark. He removed his touch before she could react and he smirked back at her dirty look.

 

"So, research party?" Willow spoke up nervously. "Uhm, what about patrolling? If this isn't getting fixed, she's going to have to go out sooner or later." Spike growled at her back and Buffy smiled sweetly at him, taking a sick kind of pleasure in his frustration and anger.

 

"There you go, Spike, all the violence you could possibly want." He twisted away from her, into motion, pacing restlessly, but not leaving, not breaking things. He was holding it together, for her. It made her feel cherished and special and powerful. This was so sick and twisted. She acknowledged this even as her mind hummed with a sense of satisfaction.

 

"I'm not Peaches, Buffy. I'm not going to exterminate my own kind."

 

"You're trying to tell me you've never killed other Vampires?" Xander was incredulous. As he should be. Spike was volatile.

 

"Only if they piss me off." He muttered. And Buffy laughed, delighted.

 

"You'd best come along then. With your attitude, someone is bound to piss you off." He glared at her and she glared back as best she could. Her satisfaction was causing his irritation to spike and simmer, but still he kept a lid on it.  In a last act of defiance, he snatched his cigarettes off the table and swept out of the door without further argument.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big hugs and thanks to the lovely Kbeautimous who was kind enough to edit the chapter.   
> Feedback loved and apprciated


	12. Back Up Plan

**Back Up Plan**

Spike stalked angrily away from that little rat trap where all the soddin Scoobies were so bloody comfortable. Eating sandwiches and makin’ jokes. All the time planning on telling him that they had no intention of helping him. His bloody Slayer was just as bad. Granted, she was in the same boat as him, but it really brassed him off the way she had stiffened up when he touched her.

 

Perfectly innocent touch it was, too. She was all wound up and he was just helping her out. As if he hadn't had his hands all over her just that morning. Bloody bitch.

Oh, and her high and mighty fucking attitude was like fingernails on a bloody chalkboard. Telling him he couldn't feed properly, couldn’t hunt.

 

What did she think he was going to be? Her pet Vamp like Peaches? Drink blood from a jar and fight the forces of evil? He was evil, goddamn it. So maybe he didn't want to end the world, but he still loved murder and mayhem as much as the next Vamp.

 

Did she forget who she was dealing with? Spike, Slayer of Slayers. One too many orgasms fry what was left of her brain? Okay, best not to think of orgasms and the Slayer in the same sentence, cause that just made him hard.

 

His Slayer was running to catch him. She tugged on his duster firmly and he spun, pulling it out of her hands. "What!" he snarled at her and she flinched. If he mentioned that she had shied from him she would deny it with venom, but she did, and it cooled his temper considerably. Which ought to piss him off because he was a fucking vampire and wanted the Slayer to fear him.

 

"Look Spike, I know that this majorly sucks, but you have to trust Giles. He'll work this out, he always does." She bit her lip, probably without realizing it, and he felt his blood stir. It suddenly occurred to him that he had her alone. Oh, they were on a public bloody street, but her bleedin’ watchdogs for friends were nowhere in sight.

 

"It's just for a little while, probably a few days at most." He began to snake towards her and she stepped back a bit. She took another step back and he pressed himself alongside her body, shoving her against the rough wood of some building or other.

 

Her eyes flashed up at him. "Besides, you've got it easy. Just spend a few days in the basement. I've got to explain this to my mom." She gave him a halfhearted smile. She was just as compelled to soothe him as he was to soothe her. That was comforting, in a twisted beyond all reason sort of way. That was okay. He liked twisted.

 

But she was a naive young woman; she knew nothing of the world. His great love hung in the balance. His dark princess, his Drusilla. The worst part of it was, even with thoughts of her dark eyes and hair swirling at the edge of his consciousness, he was consumed with the Slayer.

 

This slip of a girl, with her wide eyes and strong hands. The power in her blood sung to him, her scent intoxicated him. Standing this close to her, she surrounded him. His other cares and worries, the rest of the flaming world, bled to grays and blacks. She was Technicolor.

 

Her bottom lip pouted a bit, just begging for him. So he buried one hand in her soft gold locks and kissed her hard. She overwhelmed him. The way she tasted, how surprisingly soft her lips were. The way she focused all that Slayer power and energy on him. It was like a kick to the gut. Swift and crushing, she kissed with everything she had and he was drunk on her power.

 

He swept his tongue along the roof of her mouth and she moaned deep in her throat. She clutched his leather and pulled him flush against her. He rocked his hips against hers and let his own groan out when she rocked back.

 

He'd been hot for her all day; his hand had done little to relieve his lust. All sweet smelling and delicious, on top of him in the car. He had wanted her to come back to him, to admit to herself she wanted him.

 

Instead, she had run away, flashing him with sunlight. Leaving him all bollixed up. Bitch. He had simmered all day and now he was on fire. He had to have her now. He about spent in her hand when she fumbled with his zipper and pulled him out. She ran her smooth little hand down his length and he growled at her.

 

She smiled, letting go of his lips, looking into his eyes with a boldness he hadn't thought she possessed. Her sweet confidence rubbed his emotions sideways. She thought she was in control. Thought she was in charge.

 

He shoved her skirt up over her hips, hiked her legs around his hips, pushed her panties to the side and buried himself to the hilt before the rumble in his chest died out.

Her eyes went wide with surprise, then she blew his mind and rotated her hips.

 

God, she was hot. Molten lava all up and down his prick. Warm breath on his lips. Skin scorching him everywhere she touched. If he burst into flames at least he’d dust happy.

 

Fine, she could be in control all she wanted. She could have anything she wanted. Just as long as she didn’t push him away.

 

He rolled against her, creating hot sweet friction. The burn of his zipper added to his pleasure and he bent his head to her neck, nipping and sucking. She met him thrust for thrust. She arched into the wall and pushed herself against him more firmly and he began to cuss.

 

He knew he was babbling. Words falling from his lips about how fucking delicious and delectable she was, how much he burned for her, how unbelievably intense she felt. He didn't care. He’d never had much of a filter and there was no way he could hold back now, with her consuming him so completely. He just wanted to taste her, and fuck her, and crush her to him. She was like a ferocious storm, thunder and lightning and pelting rain. He was just a little one man boat, swept up in her fury.

 

Fuck, this was heaven. His body spiraled out of his control, his climax was building. He pulled back to look at her and was awed for a moment. She met his eyes, clutched his leather, and fell over the edge. Her tight little muscles working him over, his name on her lips, and he came hard with her.

 

"Jesus bloody Christ, Buffy." He whispered into her hair. He held her for a moment longer, getting his bearings, letting the world sway to a stop. He felt dizzy, stupid for a guy who needed no air. He pulled his softening cock out of her and slid her down his body. She leaned up against the wall, breathing hard and watching him with a guarded expression. He tucked himself away and zipped. Then he boldly adjusted her wet little scrap of panties before he smoothed down her dress where it was still riding up.

 

She blushed like the schoolgirl she was, a lovely shade of nipple pink, that had him wanting to kiss her gently and sweetly till she forgot to be embarrassed. She seemed all of the sudden to recall where they were, and glanced anxiously up and down the street. "Relax, Slayer, streets dead. Besides, this coat covers a lot."

 

"I have to patrol." She snarled at him, pushing past him violently and stalking down the street like a spooked cat. He shrugged and followed her. Patrolling was a disastrous idea.

 

One, someone was bound to see them. By tomorrow night everyone would know he was shagging the Slayer senseless and had claimed her for his own. Two, the bloody bitch could get hurt. Lots of nasties out there. Little miss ‘ignore reality’ wouldn't want to hear his opinion, so he just stretched out his legs till he was along side her and they walked in silence.

 

Spike wondered idly how long it would take for the news to travel to L.A. Peaches thought he had outdone him in Slayer action. Saying anyone could kill a Slayer but he had made one fall in love with him.

 

Tall, dark, and forehead was going to think he had mated her just to top that. He would come to challenge him; there was no doubt about that. A part of Spike jumped in excitement, ready for the fight.

 

He glanced sidelong at his girl. She was walking along swiftly, obviously determined to ignore him. He could smell himself all over her and he tried to dampen the possessiveness that rolled through him.

 

He couldn't see his mark, because her hair was in the way. He was beginning to realize that he could easily become obsessed with that hair. Golden strands bouncing all around her. Smelling of honey and Buffy. It was like the sunlight he would never see again. Her own golden glow.

 

They cut across the street and entered the first cemetery. She pulled a stake out of nowhere and twirled it expertly. Where the bloody hell was that thing? He had just had her pressed up against the wall, fucking her bloody brains out, and she had a stake stashed somewhere on her bleedin' body?

 

He shivered. Shouldn't allow himself to forget just how dangerous this little slip of a girl really was. The insane thing was, it made him want her again.

 

"So, how long do you wonder around at night?" He asked, breaking the silence. He never was good at keeping quiet.

 

"I don't wander around," she snapped. "I slay, until I'm tired."

 

"Right then, Slay." He said, gesturing to two vamps coming up quick to the left. Buffy spun and dropped into fighting stance but the Vamps just stood there gaping like useless lumps of clay.

 

Spike hiked himself up onto a massive tombstone and lit a smoke. "You planning on dusting those blokes anytime soon, Slayer? We don't have all night."

 

"Spike?" One of the vampires asked, incredulity written all over him.

 

"’Lo," He replied, nodding at each of the vamps. Useless berks, the both of them. He vaguely remembered them from Halloween. They obviously remembered him. At least his reputation was good for something in this town, Buffy had certainly never taken him seriously.

 

"Wait," Buffy spun back to him. "You know these guys?"

 

"Walked the streets of the Hellmouth off and on going on three years now, Slayer, know quite a few baddies."

 

Buffy rolled her eyes expressively and opened her mouth to speak, but she was rudely interrupted by what’s his face. "You've mated the Slayer! How the fuck did that happen?"

 

"Would you just end them pet? They're getting on my bleedin' last nerve." She blurred into motion. Kicking one vamp in the jaw, then spinning to land her fist in the eye of the other. She leapt high, and tucked in her feet to roll, in order to place them both on the same side of her.

 

She came at them like a windmill, kicking and punching. They never had a chance. Three minutes passed in a flurry of motion and then a shower of dust.

 

She was amazing.

 

She was magnificent.

 

She was poetry.

 

And he was a stupid sod for thinking so.

 

"Don't tell me what to do," she snarked at him while waving her hand in front of her face, delicately, to diffuse the dust. Dainty little thing for a Slayer. Behead beasties, make with the kung-fu, paint her toenails, shag him crazy, bubble bath with candle light, probably just a normal day for her.

 

Three cemeteries, four fledglings, an older Vamp in Armani, and a Gerenuk demon later; his slayer was seriously simmering with fury. She twisted to face him and snatched his cigarette right out of his hand. She tossed it to the ground. "Perfectly good fag you ruined there, sweetheart."

 

"Don't call me that," she snarled. "What are you practicing at? To be a lump? Because that's about as useful as you've been to me tonight." She switched stances, arms crossing over her chest. "I mean, really, why did you come if you're just gonna stand around and make snarky comments while I do all the work?"

 

He fought the urge to smile at her little bout of temper. That would really brass her off.

 

"I'm Plan B." He replied. She snarled again, literally baring her pearly whites at him, and he found himself thinking that she was quite lovely when she was mad. Her cheeks were all rosy and her eyes shone with inner fire.

 

He was thinking to kiss her again, maybe convince her to take him home and have her wicked way with him when he caught a metallic scent on the air and a flash of crimson motion out of the corner of his eye.

 

He shoved his slayer out of the way just as four inch claws ripped through her space. He wasn't sure what kind of demon this was, but it was stealthy and fast. It twisted and attacked him immediately.

 

Spike leapt back and rolled out of the way. The damn thing was quick as lighting. It pounced at him, jumping at least nine feet and Spike barely dodged again. His Slayer homed in behind it, brandishing a tree branch, of all things. She rammed it into its neck, hard. The thing let out a screech fit for a vampiric owl and shifted its focus to Buffy.

 

She leapt out of its way and Spike latched onto one of its four hind legs, twisting with all his strength. Again it swerved back towards him, howling in rage and pain.

 

Apparently, having a gaping wound in its neck and a shattered leg didn't slow the bloody thing down. The thing managed to grasp him with one of those bloody horrific forearms and Spike hissed as claws sharp as knives sliced into his arm. He grabbed the appendage and ripped it clean off, twisting the limb around to strike out at its eyes with its own claws.

 

The thing reared back too quick to do any real damage, but Spike did manage to leave four bloody gashes on the demon’s hideous pink face. His slayer grasped his uninjured arm and swung out with her feet. He realized she was using him for leverage and he twisted his body to add to her speed.

 

Both her little booted feet connected hard with the creature's fat neck, making a very satisfying crushing noise. He swung her from harm's way. They turned together, in perfect sync.

 

The demon was wobbling on his feet and he boosted his slayer in the air. She landed on the demon’s back, wrapped her slender arms around its fat neck, and wrenched. It dropped like a stone and Buffy stepped nimbly to the ground.

 

"What was that thing?" She asked him and he shook his head, looking her over critically. She didn't appear to be injured. She moved into his space and touched his damaged arm gently. It hurt, but not that bad, luckily his leather had taken the brunt of the damage. She would know this; she would be able to feel it.

 

"Bring that arm; those claws might have been poisonous." She raised her hand to his face and cupped it gently, leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Just a soft brush of her candy lips against his before she turned and began walking.

 

Would wonders never cease? A kiss freely given.

 

He followed her without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to the fantastic Kbeautimous who has been doing such a lovely edit job. Deep Deep thanks for helping with theis project...so grateful.


	13. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much Applause to Kbeautimous for the lovely edit job...Endless Love :)

**It Begins**

 

Giles had bed head. It was disturbing to see him so disheveled. He was flipping through one of his demon books, occasionally picking up the morbid arm they had carried home to examine. "You're sure it was pink?"

 

"Yeah, the arm turned that sickly color on the way here." Buffy replied.

 

Spike was slumped in the armchair, his arm freshly bandaged. The claws had not been poisonous, thank goodness. Not that he cared; he was more upset about the damage to his leather. He was holding his coat in his lap, poking morosely at the holes in the sleeve. Only Spike would care more about a piece of dead cow than his well being. It was almost disconcerting to see him so quiet. Jeez, it was just a coat.

 

He was almost pouting, his lower lip sticking out just a little further than his top lip. If she told him he was pouting he would deny it with venom. But that's what it looked like to her. The alarming thing was that he was so adorable. With his striking blue puppy dog eyes and hangdog face. Mixed with his muscular body and his platinum hair, he was a study in contradictions. He made her want to kiss it better. He made her want to go buy him a new coat. 

 

She desperately needed mental help. She desperately wanted to go sit on his lap and touch him all over. Yep, this whole thing was going to require years of therapy. Maybe she should call Jerry Springer and see if he would do a show on Slayers and their Vampire lovers. They could film at night.

 

Giles held up his book. "Did the demon look anything like this?" He questioned. Buffy squinted to see the tiny picture across the room. Spike answered for her.

 

"That's close. The soddin’ thing had four hind legs, though, and could jump quicker than a bleedin’ kangaroo." Giles frowned and pulled another book closer to him. Buffy glared at Spike for answering for her but her glare was wasted; he was too absorbed with his stupid duster. Giles held up another picture.

 

"How about this one?" Buffy crossed the room and took the book. Only to realize that it had been dark and she wouldn't mind a second opinion. She made her way over to Spike and looked at him expectantly until he tossed his coat over the side of the chair, rolled to his feet and into her space to examine the picture. 

 

Hot sauce. What was wrong with her? This thing had almost killed her, this was serious! She just couldn’t seem to help herself. Spike getting close to her caused her mind to go all  _ sexual _ . Her watcher was right there! Watching. Watching Spike be within touching distance and watching her breathing go all shallow and wispy. Could Giles tell? Spike certainly could, and the rebound of lusty feelings she got from him certainly wasn’t helping. She needed to stay focused! And not focused on how good he smelled when he stood this close to her. Focused on demon identifiage, which apparently they had managed, because Spike was giving her the nod. 

 

"Yeah, Giles, I think that's it." Giles took his book and Spike went out to smoke. After a few minutes of silence, where Giles read and ignored her, Buffy followed him. 

 

He lounged up against the wall, just outside the door. She wondered briefly if he smoked for the nicotine or just because he needed something to do with his hands. Spike was always in motion, never at rest. She leaned up against the wall next to him, her arm just barely brushing up against his. It was one of those comfortable silences. Just him and her and the night, finding comfort in their closeness. 

 

She knew it was just the bond that gave them this peace. But she'd never felt anything like it before and knew that when it was gone she would weep for its loss. She was the Slayer, and this was probably the only peace she would ever know.

 

Spike finished his cigarette and pitched it into the night. "Slayer?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I got the feeling that the demon was waiting for us. Expecting us." He paused and tilted his head. "It was waiting for us to be distracted. It had no scent, and made no noise; till it opened its mouth and I smelled someone else's blood. It was an assassin. If it hadn't fed, I wouldn't have smelled it coming. It probably would have taken both of us out."

 

Buffy crossed her arms and played the encounter over in her mind. There had been something off about it. "My spidey sense didn't go off." He raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled. "My Slayer senses didn't cue me that a demon was near. Usually I feel something."

 

"Could it have been me? Vampire throwing off your senses?"

 

"No." She didn't elaborate and he didn't ask her to. She no longer got the danger, danger vibe from Spike. It was more like peace and solace. Even if there were other Vampires around, she should have sensed something. She got a different feeling for Vamps than she did for other demons. More sharp and clear. She hadn't really run into harmful demons that she couldn't sense. Sometimes if a person was particularly violent, she could pick up on it.

 

They existed in silence for another ten minutes before Buffy asked "Spike, do you think Giles will be able to break this thing with us?" She said thing, but what she meant was mating bond. That’s what Spike had casually called it. That’s what that random vamp had called it. This was a known thing. Still, she didn’t think the way they had gone about it was the usual way. She could feel Spike’s emotions, knew he was as surprised and as shocked as she had been. He had also said this kind of thing was usually permanent. He was plenty mad about not breaking the bond when they were at the magic box, but had turned around and wanted to do things with her almost immediately. He didn’t seem to be fighting this mating bond very hard.  

 

"Don't know, pet." She wished he wouldn't call her that. She liked it when he used her name. He had so many nicknames for everyone that when he called her Buffy it took on an intimacy that made her shiver. Like Buffy was his own private name for her, like the sweetest endearment. Not that it should matter. Not that Spike's habits should count one way or the other. This wasn't even worth thinking about. 

 

"Do you know anyone else who might be able to break it?" She asked in a small voice.

 

"Wouldn't risk it." He replied without looking at her, staring off into the night, his voice low and rough.

 

"Because of me?" He did turn to look at her then, letting silence stretch for a handful of heartbeats, reading her mind and her mood and her eyes.

 

"Yeah." She didn't examine the warm fuzzy feeling that swept through her too closely.

 

"My mom's going to be home tomorrow." Buffy looked down at her feet. His eyes were always so intense. Sometimes she just had to look away.

 

"What are you planning on telling her, luv?"

 

"I don't know, the truth, probably. Ever since I came out about Slaying there's been a lot more honesty between us."

 

Spike let out a low soft laugh that sent tingles up her spine. "I suppose, ‘Hey mum, I'm a bleedin' superhero that Slays demons and vampires’ takes the bloody cake, eh, Slayer."

 

She smiled down at her feet. "Yeah, I'm not going to be dropping any bigger bombs than that one. I think she would have rather heard I'm pregnant. At least there are support groups for parents of teenage parents."

 

She looked up and found him smiling down at her, blue eyes dancing. He shoved off the wall and held the door open for her. He did that a lot. Gentlemanly things. She supposed it was left over from his Victorian upbringing. Most likely if she mentioned it he would make a conscious effort to stop. Giles looked up at them when they entered. He looked terribly serious and Buffy sat on the couch, mentally bracing herself for what he would tell her.

 

When he had their attention, Giles began to speak in his most serious tone of voice. "This was no ordinary demon. According to this text, the Hurmurvian is completely extinct in this dimension. The author, in fact, suspects them to be legend, due to the fact that one has not been spotted in well over a thousand years. He does allow that this might be because no one ever survives attack. They exist with only one purpose, assassination. They are without bodily sound or smell, and are extremely single minded. Once it has your scent, it will never ever waver from the kill, excepting death, of course. 

 

“It also does not make random kills, Buffy." Giles looked up from his book and fixed her with his gaze. "It only kills those who have been targeted by the summoner."

 

"So someone wants me dead? There's a big surprise, Giles." Buffy was unimpressed. So long as the thing wasn't a harbinger of apocalypse, and there weren't anymore to hunt down and kill, it didn't matter. It was dead.

 

"Some force powerful enough to summon a Hurmurvian wants you both dead." Giles said gravely. "I don't believe this to be coincidence. Too many prophecies seem to be linked to your odd connection and destroying one or both of you may very well open the path wide to world destruction or domination. The timing is too coincidental. I believe this is only the first attempt."

 

Buffy frowned down at her lap, so not good. Sounded like the Apocalypse was rearing its ugly head again. "I must say," Giles continued in a slightly more upbeat tone of voice, "that killing a Hurmurvian is very impressive. There is no record anywhere of anyone actually slaying one before, or even surviving attack. How on earth did you manage it?"

 

"Tag teamed it," Buffy chirped, and repressed a grin at Giles’ appalled look. It disturbed him deeply when she didn't take Slaying seriously.

 

"We're only standing cause having two targets confused it. It couldn't stay focused on one of us. Also a bit of soddin’ luck. It had fed on someone or something, point is I smelled blood right before it attacked." Giles frowned at Spike and Spike frowned back. After a moment, Giles grudgingly nodded and closed the book in his hand with a snap.

 

"Giles, what do you know so far about these prophecies you keep mentioning?" Giles sighed and set down his book. He started to remove his glasses, stopped with his hand hovering for a second, before forcing his hand down. They had been teasing him about his nervous tics and he had been trying  to knock it off. Buffy failed to repress a giggle and Giles narrowed his eyes at her, irritated. 

 

"Honestly, Buffy, so far I know very little,” He obviously wanted to leave it at that but she waved her hand in prompt and he went on, “Willow researched with me quite a bit this evening, but there is so much to cross reference and so many different dialects and languages. Not to mention we have to determine how many of the more vague prophecies actually correspond to your bond. Also, we've yet to determine if we are talking about one event or several."

 

"Well, what do you know, Watcher?" Spike cut in with his usual sneer. Giles stiffened visibly. It was almost funny to watch him bounce back and forth. Gentle when he spoke to her. Hostile if he needed to address Spike.

 

"Signs definitely point to a massive battle and a rising dark power. The prime prophecies are clear that the Slayer and her Vampire Mate are pivotal in the opposition. One of the scrolls I'm referring to quotes that only the two of you will stand between Light and the Edge of Darkness. I could go on, but really, all I know is that this bond is essential in overcoming this new and powerful evil. You're the hope of the world." She wished Giles didn't sound so bleak.

 

"Another day on the hellmouth." Buffy sang, springing up. "Ready?" She asked Spike. He scowled at her. Probably thinking of calling in sick when they had to battle the forces of darkness, being a creature of darkness himself. Still, he stood and slipped into his duster.

 

"Buffy, please use extreme caution getting home." She smiled gently at him, feeling a surge of affection for her watcher, and reassured him that she would indeed be careful. She almost drew out the conversation longer because Spike was simmering impatiently at the door. But she let it go and walked past him into the night. His car was still at the Magic Box so they would have to walk. Thank goodness, his driving frightened her, and she would much rather walk. 

 

She did need to think about what to tell her mom. It wasn't like she wanted a puppy. She was asking if she could keep a Vampire in the basement. And not even a reformed one. Just a serial killer on vacation. The freaky thing was that her mom seemed to like Spike. Once she had caught the two of them having hot cocoa while Spike moaned about Drusilla. Her mom had certainly never warmed to Angel that way.

 

The house was eerily silent and cold. Buffy flipped on the lights in the living room and the hall on the way to the kitchen. Spike followed her, a silent shadow. He sat at the bar while Buffy opened the fridge. "OK, we got O-, B…"

 

"Just heat it Slayer." Buffy straightened up and frowned over her shoulder at him, even as she snagged a bag of plasma.

 

She tossed it in the microwave and timed the cycle for 97 seconds. "You're all bad-moody." She ripped open the bag and poured the warm blood into a tall glass.

 

"I'm mated indefinitely to the Slayer, we've assassins on our tail, and my coat sleeve is in ribbons." He groused accepting the blood with a grimace. "And I'm drinking blood out of a glass."

 

Buffy smirked at him and braced her hands on the counter behind her. "Thought Vampires lived in the moment."

 

"This moment bites." He smiled ruefully. "No pun intended." Buffy laughed and dug out the Ben and Jerry's. A long night of slaying and she deserved ice-cream. He didn't do much slaying but he had helped her battle a pink assassin, so he could have some, too. She fished down two bowls and dished out generous helpings. He accepted his ice-cream without comment and she walked around the bar, taking the stool next to him.

 

"It's really not that bad." Buffy said, examining his coat between bites of Cherry Garcia. "It's just a few rips, I bet my mom would know how to sew them up, or maybe Willow could fix it." He brightened considerably, picking up out of his slump and taking bites of his ice-cream with gusto.

"Your right, the Witch owes me for not eating her. She ought to be able to wave her magic wand and make my coat like new. Wonder if she'd fix up the stitching in the lining while she's at it, and my right cuff is beginning to get a little ragged. She can probably add another 25 years to this baby." Spike drawled in between bites of Cherry goodness.

 

"You've had that old thing for 25 years?"

 

"More or less, it's a trophy." Buffy didn't ask. She was quite certain that she didn't want to know and that asking would spoil the comfortable mood between them. She took her bowl and his to the sink and frowned. Dishes were beginning to pile up and her mom would be home tomorrow. Buffy hated dishes. She ran hot soapy water in the sink anyways. Spike lit a smoke and pulled that morning's newspaper to him. She wished she had a video camera so she could record this happy little domestic scene. It was just too bizarre for words.

 

There weren't many dishes but Buffy was becoming increasingly frustrated with the egg pan. Who knew egg could cling like that? She felt more than heard Spike move up behind her. He reached over her to the sink and plucked a silver ball of wire up, handing it to her. Buffy frowned at it but attacked the mess. Anything to keep her from fainting from either shock or amusement when Spike grabbed a sponge and wiped down the stove and the countertop. She finally placed the pan in the drainer, wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face him. He was leaned up against the counter watching her. "We done?"

 

"Yeah." The word had barely left her mouth when he was across the room in her personal space. His mouth on hers. His hands in her hair. Spike could kiss like nobody's business. It was impossible to think about anything except his cool tongue in her mouth, his lips and teeth and hands. The way he smelled, the way his hard, taut body fit up against hers. The world shrank to just the two of them; he had that effect on her.

 

He bent his head to her neck and began to nibble, leaving a trail of fire and ice with his lips. She arched back into the countertop and rubbed her pelvis against the substantial bulge in his pants, taking perverse pride in his response to her. This was just so wrong. He laved kisses on her, moving the straps of her dress so he could get at her skin. Slow, wet, sucking kisses, layered one over the other, as if her skin was delicious. He reached the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she shivered uncontrollably, as a sound of bliss escaped her lips. It felt decadent to be loved on this way. 

 

"Need to take a shower." Buffy panted out between little cries of pleasure, well aware how sensitive his nose was. She was still all gross from Slaying. He ignored her and unzipped her dress in one smooth motion. He pushed the material down her arms, over her hips, and let the dress drop and pool around her feet. For a moment she was very aware of how bare she was in her mother’s kitchen, but Spike was cupping her face in his hands, kissing her again, aligning his body with hers from shoulder to knees.

 

Kissing him was like falling in reverse. Every nerve ending waking up and becoming aware of where it was touching him. There was no hesitation in his touch. His hands were everywhere; from her face to her waist to her thighs. He touched her like he owned her. And maybe he did. That’s what it felt like. She felt devoured and cherished at the same time. All that intensity of his hitting her like a cresting wave. The bond was a laser focused on nothing but her pleasure. It was hard to be embarrassed standing there in her panties when Spike’s desire and admiration was pounding through her like a pulse. 

 

Buffy mentally gave herself over to the moment. There was no fighting the inevitable. And every kiss and nip of his lips felt like fate. She ran her fingers through his hair, mussing it properly, leaving physical evidence that she was here, that she had touched him. His touch went a little rougher, a little less precise, and he fumbled a bit with her bra before wrestling it off her and  bowing her back a little to bury his face in her naked breasts. 

 

She’d always found them small and flat. You’d think she was sporting the appalachian mountains with the attention Spike gave each one. He pinched her nipples a little harsher than any touch she had used on herself before soothing them with kisses and soft nips and licks. Soft words in between that made her tingle. Telling her that her ‘ _ cherry pink nipples tasted like bloody honey _ suckle’, that she was a ‘ _ perfect golden goddess _ ’ and she was ‘ _ burning him up like glorious sunshine. _ ’ 

 

Buffy shoved at him till he gave her enough space to push his duster off his shoulders. He wasn’t thinking about his stupid leather now, was he? She threw it to the floor, impatient now, clawing his simple t-shirt up over his head and tossing it carelessly as well. His surprisingly soft hair tangled in her fingers as she dragged him back to her lips, pressing herself up against him, letting out a satisfied sound when he slid his now nice bare arms around her hips, gripping her ass, grinding into her lewdly. It felt positively sinful to have her bare breasts smashed up against all that hard smooth flesh of his. Everything about this felt wrong and bad and  _ forbidden _ . There was something deeply wrong with her for liking it so very much. 

 

Someone had to be punished for all this sinful goodness and Buffy chose Spike. She bit and nipped and clawed at him, putting her imprint on him. Leaving her mark. His lovely perfect skin was a backdrop for her lust and she delighted in each slow sucking mark she left behind. He offered her no resistance, slipping those talented fingers of his inside her panties, kneading her ass, panting in her ear as if she left him breathless, cursing low and sweet words of reckless desire. Suddenly he dropped to his knees.

 

She didn't know whether to be turned on or embarrassed when he was face to crotch with her. He'd been there before, but this was the middle of the kitchen and she wasn’t so used to this sort of thing that she knew how to deal with the low pulse of desire from having his breath on her  _ there _ . It wasn’t like she was a saint. She remembered very well the body shaking pleasure he was capable of creating with that tongue of his but she was still thinking that she ought to get him up and take him to the bedroom when he grasped her hips and pulled her firmly into his face. He ran his tongue over her already soaking wet panties and she braced her hands on the counter to keep from falling to her own knees. 

 

"I’ve been thinking about this creamy, juicy little clit all day,” Spike whispered against her before giving her one of those slow sucking kisses she liked through her panties, pulling the silk into his mouth, teasing her throbbing flesh with his lips. Rolling his tongue up afterwards, firm and deliberate, following with a gentle nip to her thigh. “Open up for me Buffy, spread those pretty knees and let me worship your pretty little cunny with my tongue.”

 

She spread her legs a bit, burning with anticipation and embarrassment, and he tugged soaked panties with his teeth, pulling them away from her flesh, getting them taut enough to rip them down the back so he pull them off the rest of the way with ease. His tongue darted out and touched bare quivering flesh and Buffy jumped a little in her own skin at the intensity of even that barest of touches. He growled that low sound of desire that Buffy was seriously learning to love and kissed her outside lips, kneading her thighs, encouraging her to open up to him more. “Wider, baby,” he whispered, pushing one knee over his shoulder, pulling her hips forward so that she had to lean back on the counter for leverage. 

 

“Look at that lovely pink pussy,” he moaned softly, giving her another torturous teasing soft kiss. She spread her legs even more, feeling her inner lips part for him, moving her hips a little closer, encouraging...hoping he’d get the hint. “Gloriously wet, glistening, I want you dripping,” he whispered as he gave her a slow thorough lick, cleaving into her folds, wetly dragging at her throbbing flesh. It wasn’t enough, she needed more and bucked up against him, trying to make him do it like he had before. God she wanted it. Frustrated, she let his name fall off her lips, a long groan of desire as she moved her hips again, thrusting against his mouth. 

 

He grasped her ass in both hands and sucked her swollen, begging clit into his mouth, working it over with his tongue. He didn’t seem to mind her squirming against him, desperate for the friction, and his firm hold on her ass gave her the leverage she needed to slide up against him as we worked her over in earnest. Licking, sucking, thrusting. He let her set the rhythm, keeping at it when her shaking thighs made her sloppy, moving her against him firm and steady. Buffy was dying and she didn’t care. Her splayed open, leaned back position gave her nothing to grasp onto and she needed to push herself onto his tongue harder, she wanted more, she was almost crying with need when he shifted her a bit so he could get one hand loose and penetrate her with two long clever fingers. 

 

Oh yes, that, that right there. Just a few rough movements had her clenching and twisting around him as he shattered her world. Trembling and drawn out cries accompanied her pleasure and Buffy did not care, just so long as he stuck with her through it. His touch on her gentled on the other side and then he was gently kissing her thighs, sliding her leg down off his shoulder so she could relax her legs to a more normal position, while Buffy panted and tried without success to pull herself together. 

 

He slid up her body, his cool skin rubbing against hers, wrapping his arms around her to bring her upright. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him too, as he kissed her. She kissed him back, enjoying the taste of her pleasure on his tongue. Slick and wet and satisfied.  She decided she liked that taste, a lot. He lifted her up and placed her bare ass on the countertop. She spared a brief thought to the fact that her mother cooked meals here but he pressed himself between her thighs and all she could do was moan and buck against him. He turned her into a writhing slut and she didn't care. He kissed her over and over; soft gentle kisses that made her head spin while he unfastened his belt and opened his pants, shoving them down past his hips with no shame at all.

 

God,  _ it _ was hard and smooth. She tried to name it in her mind and even the thought of saying the word cock, or penis, or dick out loud had her blushing. There had to be a better word for it. A ladylike word. For right now the only word she could think of without giggling was  _ it _ . Spike stroked himself while she watched without a trace of embarrassment. Even having slept with him several times it seemed impossible that something that size fit inside her body so perfectly, that getting stretched around  _ it _ would feel so good. Buffy did the impossible every day so she didn’t know why she should be so surprised that her body fairly quivered in anticipation of being invaded. She slid herself forward on the counter and wrapped her legs around him in invitation as he pushed his hips forward, sliding inside.

 

He filled her to bursting, stretching her and touching her insides in the most amazing ways. She threw her head back and braced her hands behind her and just let the sensations wash over her. He hit every nerve she never knew she had, his slow steady rhythm driving her to madness. He was breathing in time with her and she loved it. She pushed up against him desperately, using her legs to pull him against her roughly. He buried his head in her breasts, touching and tasting them. When he pulled one extended nipple into his mouth and sucked she spiraled over the edge cried his name over and over while she came. "Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," He panted while he pistoned into her with abandon and she lifted her head so she could watch him cum. His eyes met hers, wide with wonder and pleasure and then he broke inside of her.

 

He collapsed against her, clutching her to him and breathing in her scent. She was a wreck, trembling and panting. All her muscles quivered uncontrollably and her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. At the same time, she felt beautiful and powerful. Because Spike was a wreck, trembling and panting. And she had done that to him. After a moment or two, he raised his head to look at her. He gave her his patented smirk and asked, "Ready for that shower now?"

There were two hundred reasons that this was wrong. Reasons that ought to make her feel disgusted with herself and ashamed. Reasons that ought to make her stake him on the spot for making her feel this good and relaxed. She decided to ignore them until tomorrow and take a shower with her lover.


	14. Interlude

**Interlude**

Spike woke to the rich heady scent of his mate's blood. Her heartbeat beating out a soothing rhythm, her breathing soft and steady. Buffy was curled around him, one of her legs between his, her breasts pressed up against him. His face was buried against her neck. He groaned deep in his chest, overwhelmed. Her scent, her sound. She saturated his senses, flooding him with tranquility. Three days ago, her siren song filled him with bloodlust. Now, it was just lust. Hunger could wait; he wanted to make love to her.

He nuzzled against her neck and placed soft open-mouthed kisses along the side of her throat. He reached that spot where her neck met her shoulder and she arched into his touch, she liked it when he touched her there. So, of course, he paid it extra attention. She let out one of those low moans of pleasure that made his body vibrate and he nipped her. "Spike," she whispered. He skated his hand down her spine and cupped her bottom. "Oh, yes," she moaned. He shifted his knee so that his leg would rub up against her just so, and her sounds of pleasure got higher in pitch. He took his time, fondling her from tits to ass, stroking her stomach, her lovely hips. Kissing her everywhere he could reach.

His girl lifted her head and gave him a small sexy smile. That smile would be his undoing and he knew it. Being the crazy creature that he was, Spike didn't care, and smiled back. Her eyes were soft and dewy with lust, and Spike wanted her with everything he had. His sweet baby got impatient and slipped her leg over his, rising up over him, sliding down onto his painfully hard prick. Oh yeah, she was made for him. Her lovely quim was swollen tight and velvet soft from all the attention he'd been giving it lately and she had to rock back and forth a few times to get him sheathed inside her completely.

Her body fit his perfectly. Yin and Yang. He gripped her taut little waist and flexed his fingers possessively. She braced her soft deadly hands on his chest and moved in a slow steady motion. He raised his hips to meet her and managed to hit her sweet spot. Her nails dug into his skin drawing little specks of blood and she let out a sharp little cry. So he did it again.

She tilted her head back exposing the delicate column of her throat, her long unbound hair brushing up against his thighs, setting every nerve on fire. It was intoxicating watching her. Watching her wake up, become aware, become wanting. Watching her desire spark and spiral into lust. The feel of it rushing through him like the pulse he didn't have, the ebb and flow of her hunger catching on all of his jagged feelings. He'd never felt anything like it. Never wanted anything like it. She was captured lighting in his hands. The power and the surge of her energy trapped inside the fragile seeming body of a woman. A woman who had captured every edge of his fascination. Deadly killer, wanton lover, avenging angel.

He loved the way the sounds she made escalated as she got closer to orgasm. She went from moans, to cries, to calling out his name in increasingly louder tones. He loved the way she lost control, bruising and bloodying him in her passion. He loved the way she changed her rhythm and the way she rocked and swiveled those wicked hips of hers so she never hit him quite the same way. He loved how soft and firm her skin was and how he was allowed to run his hands wherever he wanted. He loved how she leaned into his touch and quivered for him.

He loved her hair. The way it smelled, and looked, and surrounded him when he was inside of her. He gripped a handful and pulled his Slayer down for a kiss. The changed position had her bucking wildly against him. Her muscles spasmed around him as she hit her peak and he rocked hard against her drowning in her scent and taste and feel. He went from lazy easy fucking, just enjoying the feel of her, to white hot lust in a hot second. Before he could stop he had emptied himself inside her with shuddering bursts.

It was over far too quickly. Early morning fucks were supposed to be lazy and long and sweet. He supposed no one had told his prick. The damn thing couldn't get enough of her and pulsed as if his heart beat as it enjoyed her warm wet heat, super sensitive now that he had cum. She rested against him, her lovely face in the curve of his neck, while she panted her way to calm. She certainly was good for his ego. She might be a mean bitch, but there was no doubt that he left her glowing and satisfied. He smoothed her hair, petted the dip of her spine, kneaded her fine hips until she finally pulled away from him. She sat up, climbing off of him to the right, so that she was standing next to the bed.

Goddamn, she was glorious, standing in the low light, naked and tousled. He had half a mind to sit up, pull her back into his arms and spend some time tonguing those lovely edible tits of hers, but he stayed put, choosing to just enjoy looking for a moment. She looked like she might want to say something, but after a moment of silence, she turned and walked out of the room. The view from behind was just as lovely. For such a skinny girl, she sure did have a delightfully round little ass. A moment later he heard the bathroom door click.

He reached over to the bedside table for his smokes and lit one just to have something to do with his hands. When Buffy got back she would probably kick him out of her bed again or give him the: "this is wrong" speech. He bloody well knew it was wrong. He also knew that he wanted her and that she was his, damn it. She'd tried to squirrel out of his arms twice in the last few hours, both times he had pinned her down and kissed her until she couldn't remember her own name. He'd fucked her so thoroughly and well his poor overused cock felt heavy and sore.

Fuck if he knew what they were doing. Sex with the Slayer. Bloody amazing sex with a golden goddess more like. In over a century he'd never been with a woman who overwhelmed him so completely. He lost control with her and that was scary. She gave as good as she got, and it was a bloody miracle he hadn't burst into flames in her hands. Dru had gone on and on about him tasting like ashes. She must have known. Gods, was she even still in Sunnyhell? Spike realized with a kick of guilt that he hadn't thought of Dru once since he had kissed the Slayer in the kitchen. He ought to be frantic to find her, but instead he was just passably worried.

Spike shrugged, mentally saying to hell with it. She had wanted to be free of him and he had problems of his own. By the time this mess with the Slayer was sussed out Dru would be ripe and willing to fall back into his arms. This would give her time to realize how much she loved and needed him.

Spike frowned and crushed out his cigarette. The thought of Dru coming back to him did not fill him with the warm glow he had come to expect. It was just a side effect of the mating. When he was separated from Buffy he would want Dru again. His mind was just clouded, in the most delicious way. The very idea of being separated from his mate brought on faint waves of panic but Spike pushed them down. In the meantime, he had a gorgeous lover that made him quiver.

Dru could wait.

* * *

Buffy stared at her pale features in the mirror. Her lips were swollen from rough kisses, her neck bore faint red marks where Spike had nipped and sucked. No surprise that he had a fixation with necks. The surprise was how much she liked it. The marks he'd left on her soul wouldn't fade so quickly. She could no longer pretend that sex with Spike did anything but rock her to the core. His kisses were like a drug, his touch set her on fire. And she didn't think it had anything to do with this bond between them. The lust hadn't been mating induced since that first time. No, this was all Spike.

Not that she should be surprised, he had over a century of experience in seduction. Learning how to use his clever hands, and tongue, and body. Yep, that would be her new excuse; she was being seduced by an expert. Except that didn't ring true in her head either. She had initiated some of this last all-night love fest and participated in all of it. Twice she had come to her senses and attempted to end things, but Spike hadn't listened, just pulled her in and kissed her until she couldn't remember her own name.

Worse, it got better every time. Spike was doing that Spike thing. Where he watched her, and learned about her. Instead of figuring out her weak spots in a fight he was figuring out the best way to touch her. Just like their fights had escalated into epic battles on the edge of survival. Now he knew how to keep her desire on that edge, feed her just enough to make her want more. He'd fucked her so thoroughly he'd managed to make her a little sore. She was a slayer for God's sake, she was built to take a beating. If she'd been completely mortal he probably would have fucked her to death by now, and she would have died begging him to do it a little bit harder. Make her hurt just a little bit better. What was wrong with her? This was so sick.

Buffy wet a washcloth and began to wash her face. Her whole body was limp with exhaustion. All her muscles completely relaxed. She felt wrung out like a limp noodle. She felt good. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so stress-free. Note to self: Marathon hot monkey sex good for relaxation. She wet her toothbrush and began to vigorously wash the taste of Spike from her mouth. The entirely too pleasant taste. She was scarred for life.

So, Spike knew how to make her toes curl and her body shake. That was not the point. Buffy didn't believe in casual sex just for the sake of it. She could never have anything more with a soulless annoying Vamp who would just as soon eat people as look at them. Finding her pleasure with a killer was just wrong on so many levels. What would her friends think if they knew she had been writhing and screaming for a dead man? A dead man besides Angel.

This had to stop. He wouldn't like it. He was much more accepting of this whole thing, living in the moment as he did. But she needed to look in the mirror and not be disappointed and ashamed of herself. She used the washcloth to clean off her thighs and shuddered thinking of how the mess had gotten there. She closed her eyes against the sensation when she ran the washcloth over the sensitive and swollen flesh of her sex, wiping it clean. She pulled her robe off the back of the door and wrapped the thick terry cloth around her modestly. She knew Spike would scoff but she felt more in control with her nakedness covered.

Spike was sprawled out naked, in all his glory, on her sheets. Completely unashamed. And why should he be? He was all hard muscle and pale skin. Her comforter had been tossed to the floor at some point. He watched her with hooded eyes while she picked it up and draped it over the end of the bed. "Got classes today?" He questioned when she just stood there like a lump.

"Uhm Yeah, but not till this afternoon. My mom's plane is supposed to land at 9:15 so she'll be home fairly early." Buffy paused trying to think of the most effective thing to say to get him to hide in the basement until she talked to her mom. Spike, of course, took her pause as an invitation and moved in front of her on his knees faster than she could blink.

"That's at least three hours." He purred in a husky voice, his hands pulling loose the tie of her robe to slide his hands inside to caress her skin. "Warm silk you are." He bent his head to her neck and Buffy reached up to push him away, but when her hands met his smooth skin she found herself clutching at him instead. They had to stop, this was wrong. God in heaven, why did he feel so good?

"Drusilla, Drusilla." She squeaked pulling away. He kept his hands on her waist and looked up at her in complete confusion. His blue eyes were so expressive. "You can't do this because you're in love with Dru." He gave her a slow sexy smile.

"Buffy, what are you nattering on about?" He asked sliding his hands up to cup her breasts and kneaded them softly. He squeezed lightly running his fingers from the base to tips until he reached her nipples rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Buffy called herself nine kinds of slut as she arched into his touch and cried out at the sensation.

"Spike, this is wrong." She whispered, hating the sound of her husky lust filled voice.

"I know luv." He replied, equally husky and bent to flick his tongue over one extended nipple. She cried out and he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue over her sensitive flesh. She had never played with her breasts much, and was very surprised to find just how sensitive they could be when fondled. Was shocked how erotic his fascination with them was.

"Spike! Stop, we have to stop." He pulled back again to look at her. "Spike, I can't do this, sex just because it feels good, is wrong. I, I'm not built that way I need love and friendship and…"

"Are you asking for love and friendship?" he asked, obviously bewildered.

"No! No, of course not, I'm just explaining that this can't happen anymore, it's wrong." He tugged on her suddenly sending her sprawling on top of him. He rolled her to her back and kissed her gently on the lips.

"So, this is some sort of moral crisis."

"Spike, your turning me into a slut!" Her voice came out in a very undignified wail and she shut her mouth in embarrassment. She turned her head and he nuzzled her neck. He slid one leg between hers and danced his hands over her flesh.

"Slayer, you belong to me." He whispered. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. His words sent uncontrollable pleasure rocketing through her. "I belong to you." He kissed her jugular and the hollow of her throat, before finding his bite mark and giving it a little nibble that sent lust rocketing through her despite all the sex she'd been having. "S'not wrong luv, it's natural."

He blew on her wet nipple and kissed the other, giving it the same slow treatment. His hand snaked down to touch her intimately and he growled "mine" as he pushed two fingers inside of her and kissed her lips. She arched into his touch and cried out. God, he made her feel so good. He pushed her legs apart and settled between them. His cock probed at her entrance a moment before he pushed inside of her, stretching her sore swollen flesh, filling her with a delicious ache. She braced her feet on the bed and pushed up to meet him. He liked that, he let out ragged sound of pleasure, so she did it again. He met her eyes and pushed into her harder. "Mine"

Spike set a hard-fast pace, roughly claiming her body as his. Kissing and nipping and touching her desperately. When she orgasmed, soaking him with a fresh round of slippery wetness, he changed the angle of his hips and continued to piston until she climaxed again. The lazy sweet rhythm from this morning was long gone. He hiked her legs up over his shoulders, braced his hands on her thighs, and drove into her over and over again until he finished with a low roar.

He bowed over her, burying his face in her breasts, letting her shaking legs down to fall open on either side of his lean hips, rested on her for a few breathless moments while Buffy tried to get her wildly beating heart under control. He shifted his weight off her, turning on his side, but he did not let her go, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her middle, kissing her shoulder, the corner of her mouth. Her robe tangled up between them and she realized she still had it on. So much for her safety layer.

 _Hers_. She liked the sound of that a little too much. She knew it, he knew it, but it hadn't been said out loud. Maybe that was what was wrong with her, her body was just confused about the nature of their relationship.

"Slayer, no sense in fighting it. Nothing's gonna change till your Watcher figures out how to separate us. No sense in being more miserable than we have to be." Spike said as he scooted up to the headboard and reaching for his cigarettes. "Take that robe off luv." Buffy sat up. With the robe wide open like it was it left nothing to the imagination. But undressing herself would be an admission, a concession. Oh, this was ridiculous. As if sleeping with him a half-dozen times wasn't a concession. She pushed it off her shoulders slowly, liking the way his eyes darkened with lust. Then she crawled up next to him bringing the comforter with her. She would just have to tell Giles he needed to speed up the research.


	15. Busted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kbeautimous for the lovely edit job :) Much hugs.

**Busted**

"Buffy Anne Summers!"

Buffy blearily opened her eyes to see her very pissed off mother standing at the edge of her bed. Hands on hips, eyes blazing, she was the very image of righteous indignation. The cobwebs in her mind cleared instantly and Buffy barely bit back a curse word.

Busted.

Buffy's eyes flew to a very naked Spike. Luckily they had the comforter over them. He had his blue eyes trained on her mother, and if she didn't know better, she might think he looked sheepish.

"Mom, I can explain…"

"Is that Spike?" she shrieked, then rushed on before Buffy could reply. "You have five minutes to be dressed and downstairs." She pinned Spike with a lethal look. "Both of you." The door slammed with an alarming click.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again. Your mum is just plain scary. She'd make a hell of a Vampire."

Buffy gave him her own version of the death glare before jumping out of bed and running to her closet. "This is so not funny Spike. My mother is going to kill me." Spike swung his feet to the floor and fished around for his jeans. She spotted them on the floor and tossed them at him. He caught them inches from his face. Stupid Vampire reflexes. Buffy shimmied into bra and panties before she selected a very modest dress that clung to her neck and fell to her ankles. She didn't think she had ever worn it, it had been a gift and wasn't at all her style. It was perfect for that innocent nun look she was going for.

She turned to see Spike just standing there, watching her, pants still unbuttoned, barefoot, and shirtless. "Come on Spike, Get dressed." She crossed the five steps to him and reached for the button on his pants. "My mom is so not kidding about the five minutes."

She snapped the button and looked up at him to tell him to hurry but was hushed by the look in his eyes as he stared down at her. Pure lust. She was beginning to get to know that look well. She ignored the sudden rush of wetness between her thighs and snatched her hands back away from the waistband of his jeans. She started trying to shimmy into the heavy dress but there were too many buttons so she had to undo about half of them just to get it on. She was about to get another outfit because the buttons up the back were too hard to reach when Spike brushed her hands aside and began to do them up himself.

Buffy shivered as a fissure of awareness raced down her spine. There was just something so intimate about having a man dress her. It was just a little too old married couple like for her to be comfortable with. But she held her hair up anyway because they needed to get downstairs. He finished the last button even as he placed a soft gentle kiss on her neck and slipped his hands around her waist, leaning into her. He nuzzled her hair, stroked her tummy. She felt so warm and cherished that she sighed and leaned back into him for a moment, giving it for a handful of heartbeats to the way he made her feel. Her mother, of course, found them like that. Buffy sprang away from him, guilty, expecting her mother to be furious. Instead she was floored by the almost tender look on her mom's face. "Spike, would you prefer tea or coffee?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any hot cocoa, would you?"

* * *

 

Half an hour later found them in the living room. Buffy sat next to Spike and her mother sat across from them like the inquisitorial squad. Buffy's throat was raw from talking. Spike had sat there like a lump and said nothing except that the cocoa was good. Didn't know why he was even here, anyway, if he wasn't planning to contribute. Buffy had decided to go with complete honesty and had started the story with the night that Spike had showed up at Giles apartment. Buffy had censored most of the x-rated material, but her mother wasn't an idiot, she had to at least touch on it. However, her mother did not need to know that they had mad hot sex pressed up against a building, on a main street, with their clothes on.

"And I guess that's it." Buffy finished, finally reaching for her juice and taking a long drink to slake her thirst. Her mom was silent for a long time, sipping her second cup of cocoa. Spike got up after a moment and went into the kitchen. She heard the microwave hum. Her mother didn't say anything till Spike returned with a tall glass of blood. Her mom looked paler than she did normally but stayed silent until Spike placed an empty stained glass on the table. They could pretend it was tomato juice but everyone knew it was not. He lifted his hot cocoa to his mouth and took a sip.

"Giles is researching it?" Her mother clarified and Buffy nodded, relieved at her calm tone of voice. "And you're stuck like this until he fixes it?" Buffy nodded again. Her mom's features contorted into a stern frown. "That is no excuse for having sex in my house."

Spike spewed his hot cocoa all over the coffee table.

* * *

 

"How goes the research?" Buffy asked as she breezed into the Magic Box. Spike was asleep again, this time properly ensconced in the basement. Giles looked up from a pile of musty old books and frowned.

"This is not good, Buffy. All these portends point to a very big evil. There are references to an unstoppable power and a dimensional key." Willow was buried behind books and popped up so Buffy could see her. "I've got Willow researching the dimensional key and I believe we have it narrowed down to a location. It's protected by an ancient, very obscure, group of monks. Perhaps we will be able to contact them somehow. Perhaps destroy this key and eliminate this threat. Then we would be able to concentrate on separating you and Spike."

"Seems pretty simple, but won't that just piss off the unstoppable evil?" Buffy grinned at Giles, enjoying his disgruntled look. Surely he must know by now that most of her levity was geared solely towards annoying him. If he didn't make it so much fun she wouldn't do it so often. At least he didn't take off his glasses.

"The evil itself is not unstoppable, just the power it wields." Giles clarified, his voice a study in forced patience.

"What difference does it make?" Buffy asked as she picked up an apple and took a juicy bite. Giles made one of his many frustrated sounds and turned the page in his book. "Willow, are you about ready? We're going to be late for class."

Willow gave her book a last, lingering caress that bordered on x-rated, before she got to her feet, swiping up her mother's car keys. Buffy finished her apple as she followed Willow out and tossed the core before getting into the car. Willow carefully buckled her seatbelt, checked her mirrors and started the car. They made it out to the road before Willow pounced. "So what's the up with Spike? Are you sleeping with him?"

"Yeah, my mom caught us in bed this morning." The car swerved suddenly and Buffy dented the dash with her grip. The car screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road and Willow twisted to face her with a look of complete shock. Buffy supposed Willow hadn't picked up on as much evidence as she had assumed. Ooops. Well, she certainly knew now! "We were sleeping, she didn't walk in on anything."

"You slept with Spike, apparently more than once, and you didn't tell me?" Willow screeched. "Oh my Goddess, Buffy! How could you not tell me something like this? I'm your best friend, that grants me certain inalienable privileges, and a big one is being in with the sex secrets!" Slowly Willows face turned a brighter shade of red. "When did you first sleep with him?"

"It's not that I didn't want to tell you, Willow, things have just been so crazy, there hasn't really been time." Buffy felt a twinge of guilt for not saying anything earlier. Willow had that effect on her.

"The first time Buffy." Willow said, resolve face firmly in place.

"The first night I brought him home." Willow looked beyond surprised. Her eyes as wide as they would go and her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. Buffy hastened to explain. "We needed it, like seriously bad, it was a side effect. And then it was just so good that we couldn't keep our hands off each other."

Willow began to laugh uncontrollably. It was a good thing they were pulled over because her head was pressed up against the steering wheel and tears were leaking from her eyes. "This is not funny Willow; I'm sleeping with a Vampire!" Buffy finally shouted peeved.

Finally Willow sobered, pulling herself together. "It's just that I was thinking about that morning and how Xander was going on about what a hellcat Drusilla must be and he would die if he knew that you left those scratches all over Spike." She chuckled a few times as she put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road. After a very small stretch of silence she said. "So good you can't keep your hands off of each other? I want details."

Thirty minutes later, they sat in the courtyard under a tree. Their first class of the day forgotten. "I have a confession to make." Willow said solemnly. Buffy braced herself for more teasing. "I have a secret, too. I'm dating a girl named Tara."

* * *

 

Buffy entered her house cheerful, and was greeted with scene so horrific and vile that she immediately wanted to boil her eyeballs in bleach. Spike and Dawn, casually sprawled on the sofa, sharing popcorn watching television.

Spike didn't look up from his television program; he had probably sensed her coming long before she appeared on his vampire radar. Dawn did glance up but she just rolled her eyes and gave Buffy a horrid little sister glare. God, sometimes she couldn't stand that little brat.

"How was school, luv, learn the secrets to the universe?" Spike drawled in one of his more husky tones, giving her his 'I want you now look.' Buffy couldn't help an evil little smile.

"No," she answered cheerfully. "We skipped class and discussed my sex life." She flounced out of the room to the wonderful sound of Dawn's 'eeeww' and Spike's 'bloody hell'. Life was good.

Her mother was in the kitchen starting on dinner. Buffy took a barstool and watched her for a few. "Need some help?" She finally asked, and her mother replied she had it under control. Another small silence. "Are you still mad at me?" A short no. It wasn't like her mom to be so short with her. Finally, Joyce turned and regarded her seriously.

"I was just surprised, Buffy. I didn't think you would ever disrespect me like that." Buffy's face crumpled and tears fell unbidden.

"Mom, I respect you, I do. This was out of our control. It's... it's, I don't know, like we're married or something. We need each other! It's completely overwhelming and totally takes over. But please mom, don't think I don't respect you, I do, I totally do. I just need him." Suddenly her mother was holding her and they were crying.

"Everything all right in here?" Spike asked from the door. She could feel those nice, soothing feelings through the bond, overriding a thin stream of very deep concern. Her mom said something reassuring and Spike left. She could feel him hovering just outside the door.

"I'm sorry, honey." Her mother said. She helped Buffy dry her tears. "I jumped to conclusions, I didn't realize how serious this was."

"It is mom. It's way serious, and the thing is that there is some sort of big evil coming and Spike and I are supposed to stop it before we can break the bond so we might be like this for a while."

Her mother smiled wryly. "So I guess this means that Spike probably won't be sleeping in the basement after all."

"Probably not," Buffy whispered. "I guess I'd better go patrol." She finished in a stronger voice.

"Have some spaghetti first." Her mother replied.

* * *

 

Not fifteen minutes into patrol they were beset by a dozen vampires. It was obviously planned and had Buffy been alone she would have been a Vampire snack box. These were not fledglings. They were good, well trained, and older. If they had been a cohesive group, Buffy wasn't sure that even her and Spike together would have been able to take them out. Buffy was a mess by the time it was all done. Her right arm was torn to the bone and her knee hurt like a mother. She glanced around, checking for stray enemies. Spike was holding the last Vamp against a tree breaking ribs one at a time, methodically and coldly. Buffy felt a little sick by the morbid display. He noticed her watching and glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Slayer, luv, would you be a doll and run to the car and fetch my railroad spikes? They are in the trunk under my axe." The Vamp sang like a canary.

"I'll talk, I'll talk." He squeaked.

"Who sent you?" Demanded Spike in a low sinister tone.

"Glory sent us. We were supposed to kill the Slayer and capture the Vampire. We didn't even know it was you, Spike. She just said the Vampire. I swear." Spike hit the Vamp again and there was a sickening sound of crushing bone.

"Who is this Glory?" Spike growled.

"A God. That's all I know I swear. Adam is who talked to her and he's dust now."

"So are you mate," Spike said softly as he plunged a stake into the Vampire's black heart.

They went straight to Giles. The whole gang was called in, even Anya, though she wasn't technically part of the gang. Giles listened to her tale with interest. Asking some questions and digging out irrelevant details. What was important was that someone wanted them dead and they were not playing. Buffy was seriously torn up, and Spike was a mess, as well. This had been close, too close. Another encounter like that and they were toast. They made time for basic first aid but there was no time for a hospital trip. They were just about to get into researching Gods named Glory when the phone rang.

Giles paled visibly as the person on the other end spoke. "I understand, thank you for calling." He turned to face them with a grim expression and Buffy held her breath, fearing the worst. "Faith has woken up from her coma. Her bed was found empty just twenty minutes ago."

"When it rains, it pours." Said Xander softly and Buffy had to agree with him.

* * *

 


	16. Escalation

**Escalation**

 

Buffy had a headache by the time she finally headed home with Spike. He insisted on taking his car since her knee still burned like hell…even packed with ice. She looked just awful, too. She'd managed to fix her hair, but she had a big bruise coming in on her cheek and she walked with an awful limp. Not to mention the broken rib that made her breathe in funny little hitches. It hadn't been a good day.

 

Everything was piling up on her. She was being chased by assassins, apparently sent by a God. She needed to find a magic "key" that was being guarded by mysterious monks. Faith was loose and most likely plotting revenge of the most awful sort. And she was bonded to an evil Vampire. Sadly, the being bonded part was the only source of comfort she had. She was being buried in baddies, but she wasn't alone. She knew Spike would be there for her.

 

Not that it would do them any good if this Glory person, eh God, decided to send twenty vampires instead of twelve. Spike wasn't doing so hot, either. She tallied his injuries in her head. Two broken ribs, sprained wrist, chest wound, pierced lung, dislocated shoulder. She winced recalling the awful sound when she had helped him pull the damn thing into place. Even Xander had made a face.

 

What if this Glory decided to send an assassin to their home? She was in no condition to defend her mother and sister. Neither was Spike, though she wouldn't say anything. Spike helped her limp into the house and she leaned slightly on his strength even though he was hurting, too. She scooped up the portable phone on the way to the couch. She hit the speed dial for Giles.

 

"Giles? I was just thinking, is there some sort of protection spell that Willow can do on the house? If we are being hunted, that woman might send someone here." Giles agreed with her and said he would send Willow over first thing in the morning. Buffy fretted but agreed and hung up the phone.

 

Spike sat down next to her and checked the binding around her ribs. "Don't worry, luv, I'll be able to sense any baddies before they get into the house."

 

"Like you sensed that assassin demon thingy?" She snapped at him.

 

He recoiled visibly. "You didn't sense it, either, little miss perfect Slayer." He growled at her and Buffy instantly felt contrite. She didn't mean to take this out on him, she just felt so frustrated. She didn't even need to voice an apology; he could feel her remorse and pulled her into his arms. She winced when she had to reposition her body, but she felt good pressed up against him and leaned into him. "What are you hungry for, baby? I'll cook."

 

Buffy was too deep in thought to reply. If someone came to the house tonight at least one of them needed to be up to combat. She was out of commission for probably at least four days. She sat up and slid her left leg over Spike so that she was straddling him. She rested her head in the curve of his neck and brushed her hair to the side. She smiled faintly at the feel of the bulge in his pants. Even beaten and bloody he still wanted her. "What are you doing pet?" Spike's voice was low and strained. She knew he was hungry.

 

"Drink." She said simply. He kissed her neck, soft little butterfly kisses and nibbles from her ear to that wonderful spot where her neck met her shoulder. Abruptly he stood with her, turned around, and sat her on the couch.

 

"No" He said, just as simply, and walked into the kitchen.

 

Buffy sat in her seat for a few, peeved. What kind of Vampire turned down blood? A brief memory of Angel hovering over her flashed in her head and she pushed it out of her mind. Spike was no Angel. What the hell was wrong with her blood? She attempted to storm into the kitchen, but it was more like a moaning hobble.

 

Spike had his back to her, bent over rummaging in the fridge. His duster was laid over a kitchen chair, so she got to get an eyeful of his nice tight behind wrapped in denim. "What sounds good to you?" He asked, and Buffy bristled at his casual tone. He stood and turned, closing the fridge. Why did he have to be so good looking? She could hardly concentrate on how mad she was at him when he was in that tight black t-shirt and his muscles were all mocking her with their yummy goodness. He was smirking. He knew it too. She sat down because she was tired, he had nothing to do with her suddenly unsteady legs.

 

"Soup, out of a can," she snapped. "What the hell is wrong with my blood?" Laughing at her like that was not going to get him into her good graces. Stupid Vampire. If he didn't stop it she was going to stake him proper and eliminate at least one of the problems on her growing list.

 

"Your blood is fucking marvelous. Nothing else like it pet. Bloody perfect." He smiled at her and suddenly he was on his knees in front of her, cupping her face in his strong hands. "Don't want to drain your batteries. Can't heal up if I'm sucking out all your power now, can you?"

His hands felt wonderful to her, lightly calloused and finely boned. He could crush her head between them if he wanted to. She knew that he did not. For a heartbeat she allowed her face to nuzzle into his right palm before she straightened up, pulling her resolve around her like a warm coat.

 

"I need one of us to be in fighting form Spike! We couldn't take on a housecat right now."

 

"Piffle," Spike exclaimed, rising to his feet a little slower than normal. He liked to pretend he wasn't hurting but she could feel an echo of his pain. "No one's getting by us, Buffy, you're mum and sis are going to be just fine." He dug in the cupboard for soup and Buffy frowned. It was unnerving how he just knew what she was thinking. She hadn’t said anything about her mother and sister needing a protector. That had nothing to do with the bond. He could feel she was anxious, worried...but how did he know it was because of her family. Worrying about others ought to be something he didn’t understand. Soulless creature that he was. Could he read mind's like Drusilla? She was his sire after all. Was that one of the powers that transferred? Buffy shrugged it off and limped to the fridge for blood. She got out three bags. If he wouldn't accept her blood, she was going to make damn sure he had plenty.

 

 

They ate quickly, Spike stealing bites of her soup. She wanted a shower, her hair felt dirty, heavy with vampire dust. Her muscles ached, her face throbbed, and there was blood under her nails. Yes, Spike was bonded to her, and yes, he had saved her life tonight, but she had to remember he had different priorities, different loyalties. Spike was telling some bullshit story about chicken noodle soup and the sixties when she interrupted. "Spike, where do you suppose Drusilla is?" He paused, giving her a look, before he drained the last of his third glass thoughtfully.

 

"Don't rightly know, Slayer. She could be anywhere."

 

"Do you," Buffy swallowed. "Do you want to look for her?" She didn't know why she should care but she knew that Spike cared about the Vampiress, and if he needed to know where she was, Buffy understood.

 

"No, I'm good." He stood and took their dishes to the sink. She got the very distinct impression that he didn't want to talk about it. Surely, he must feel the relief she was feeling. She was also feeling quite sad for Spike because she got a faint echo of grief from him. He felt Drusilla was gone from him forever. They hobbled up the stairs together. Spike didn't laugh at her or make snarky comments when she looked in on her mother and sister.

 

She went to the bathroom and Spike followed her. She was alone in the mirror. The dress from earlier had been in tatters so she had changed into raggedy workout clothes. Her cheek was a swollen mess, all traces of makeup long gone, leaving the rest of her deathly pale. Her hair a limp, dusty mess, her lips pinched with pain. So not sexy. She started trying to wiggle out of her top and Spike stopped her, pulling it over her head. She watched her expression change in the mirror, goosebumps breaking out over her arms and chest as Spike ran invisible hands over her shoulders and down her arms. She watched with fascination as her loose pants seemed to work down her hips by themselves and slide down her legs. She wasn't quite able to suppress a wince when the fabric got a little caught on her sore knee.

 

She stepped out of her pants and smiled as Spike ran his hands over her hips and rested his head on her shoulder. It was nice that he still wanted to touch her even though she was black and blue. She turned to help him out of his clothes, so he wouldn't have to strain his ribs. She pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing the bloody, ripped garment to the side. She let her hands run down his muscular chest. She loved touching him. She frowned when she reached the wide swath of bandage holding his broken ribs in place, and lightly skimmed her hands to his jeans. She unbuttoned and unzipped them, careful not to catch anything important in the zipper. Taking a deep breath, she boldly pushed them down his hips. He toed off his big black Docs and stepped out of his jeans. As usual, Spike was commando.

 

Spike reached around her and unhooked her bra, drawing the scrap of fabric down her arms. He hooked his hands in her panties and pulled them down carefully. He bent at the waist, careful to manipulate her silk underwear so they didn't touch her knee. He trailed his fingers up the back of her calves and the back of her thighs as he stood. He cupped her behind and kissed her softly. He carefully pulled her close to him, mindful of how sore she was. He rested his forehead on hers and flexed his hands on her bottom. They stood that way for a while before Spike finally spoke in a ragged whisper. "I thought that Vamp had you."

 

"Yeah." She whispered back. "Me, too." She clutched his arms a little tighter as she thought about her most recent near-death experience. The Vampire that had knocked her knee out had leaped on her, fangs bared for the kill. She had just barely brought her stake up, but she hadn't been able to aim and had missed the heart. He'd exploded into dust in the split second before he killed her. Spike had been standing over her, stake in hand, eyes wide with shock. They had stared at each other for one breathless moment before he had been ambushed from the side by two of the remaining Vampires. She had had her own battle to fight. There had been no time to stop and recuperate.

 

"I'm going to rip this Glory bitch's bloody, soddin’ head off." Spike growled, and Buffy gave one of her small smiles.

 

"How do we kill a God, Spike? Her power is unstoppable." Buffy didn't mind admitting her fear to Spike, he could feel it anyway.

 

"She wants us dead or captured for a reason, sweets, she's just as afraid of us as we are of her." He took a deep, unneeded breath and stood up straight. "Let's get washed up, luv, so you can get some sleep. You got classes tomorrow?"

 

"Yeah." How wonky was the world when a Vampire made the Slayer feel better?

 

They soaped each other carefully, mindful of sore spots and bloody gashes. They were quite the pair. Thank God for super-fast healing because three months recuperating would so not be fun. "My dorm mate probably thinks I dropped off the face of the earth." Buffy said as she ran soap down Spike's powerful back. Then she gave extra attention to his tight, muscled behind. She liked the way he quivered under her hands; it made her feel confident and powerful.

 

He turned suddenly and kissed her soundly, tongue sweeping in her mouth, overwhelming all her senses. He pulled back and answered her. "She probably just figures you've got some hot new boyfriend." He carefully began to unwind her sopping wet bandages, first her knee, then her ribs. She wasn't looking forward to washing those parts.

 

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Buffy teased, and got one of his trademark smirks in return. Buffy realized suddenly that it might have been construed that she had just sort of called him her boyfriend. She couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks, but she could change the subject. "So you were hanging with Dawnie today?"

 

Spike carefully wiped over her bruised skin. "I like your sis, she's feisty. Takes after the rest of the Summers women."

 

"She's a pain." Buffy whined. "She's always in my way, and she is super annoying."

 

"Isn't that a sister's full-time job?" Spike asked, running his hands up the insides of her thighs. Buffy caught her breath and tried to concentrate on the conversation. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of rendering her speechless. Even when he brushed his fingers over her damp curls.

 

"Did you have any siblings? I mean, when you were alive?"

 

"Had a brother, he died of the pox when he was just a babe, mum took it hard." Buffy let the subject lie. She carefully began to undo Spike's bandage around his taut waist. He winced slightly when she had to pull a bit and she cringed, hating hurting him. She carefully unwound the strip of cloth and soaped his bruised and bloody skin. It looked like some Vamp had managed to get his fangs into Spike on his side. Buffy didn't examine the rage she felt on Spike's behalf too carefully. Best not to think about it.

 

Buffy ghosted a soft kiss on the sensitive, puckered skin where Spike had taken a stake, inches from his heart. She resisted the urge to clutch his body against her and cry. That would only hurt both of them. She took a deep breath and let her hands travel lower, first to his hips and, clinging to her confidence, she bit the bullet and let her hands close over Spike's erection. That was the word she had decided on. Erection. It sounded like a commercial, but it was better than cock. Maybe if he continued to corrupt her she might be able to say it, one day, but for now, erection was what she was going with.

 

He was hard and thick in her slippery hands. He made some incoherent sound that let her know how much he liked her touch, so she began to use one hand to stroke him slowly and the other to cup his balls. She brushed her lips across his throat and he let out a moan and whispered her name. She was startled when he stopped her, removing her hands. For a moment she was devastated, he didn't want her. He kissed her lips softly. "Lets bandage up these ribs before things get too serious, hmm, Slayer?" She smiled like a loon.

 

Spike bandaged her ribs tightly and fretted over her knee. He tried to talk her into taking some painkillers, but she insisted she needed to keep a clear head. She returned the favor, wrapping Spike's torso. She lightly brushed her fingers over the spot where he had been stabbed. He insisted it was on its way to healing and didn't need a bandage.

They made love with slow rocking motions that didn't jar their bodies too hard. Lying on their sides, Spike behind her, buried to the hilt. They moved to the soft music of muffled moans and cries of pleasure.

 

Buffy slept like the dead.

 

Morning came far too early. Buffy tried to sneak out of bed, so as not to wake Spike, but she found herself looking into cobalt eyes. "Sleep," she whispered, and went to the bathroom. The sharp, almost unbearable pain was fading as she began to heal. But she was sore in places she didn't know she had. There would be no sex today, that was for sure. Buffy fretted about leaving her mom and sister as she dressed. Dawn had to go to school and her mom would go to the gallery. She couldn't put everyone's lives on hold because of some vague fear. Every instinct was telling her to hold them all close, not let them out of her sight.

 

Jeans, silk top, hair in a high ponytail. Makeup carefully concealing her already fading bruise and the deep dark circles under her eyes. She looked like your average teenage California girl. She sat on the toilet stool and carefully trimmed and painted her fingernails and toenails. She carried her open toed shoes down the stairs. Spike was making pancakes. It never failed to trip her out watching him cook. Her mother and sister sat at the bar, both looking highly amused as well. Her mom had been telling Spike how she couldn't remember the last time she didn't have to cook breakfast.

 

Buffy sat down and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at her sister. Hand on chin, head tilted, and dreamy expression number twenty-seven. Dawn was definitely crushing on the undead. Buffy preferred her goofy crush on Xander, at least that wouldn't get her killed. Life would have been so much easier if her family had warmed to Angel this way, but both mother and sister had never really liked him.

 

It made no sense; at least Angel had been gentle and polite. At least Angel had a soul. Everything you would think a mother would want for her daughter. Of course she couldn't really blame her sister, either; Spike was waltzing around in black leather pants that were painted on his body, and a faded black t-shirt that hugged every muscle. Barefoot.

 

Willow knocked cheerfully on the door before walking in. Spike dodged to the side to avoid a flash of sunlight. It was unnerving when Spike moved so fast. He always came off so human, the way he swaggered around, and his expressive eyes and face. Then he would move in a flash, vamp, or drink blood, and she would be reminded. In a way, it made her sad. She wondered what human William had been like. Was he just a tamer version of Spike? "Sorry, Spike." Sang out Willow and sat at the table with Buffy. "Are those pancakes?"

 

The pancakes were really good, there was something about them that Buffy couldn't put her finger on. Finally Buffy's mom asked and Spike told them he had put honey and nutmeg in the batter. Buffy tried not to wince when Spike first put peanut butter on his cakes, and then slathered on blood. So much for blending. No one watched Spike eat.

 

Willow kept giving Spike sidelong looks, which he ignored. Buffy had ended up giving her best friend more detail than she probably should have about what was going on between them. By the time she had realized that she was telling too much, Willow’s cheeks had been bright red and her eyes had expanded to twice their normal size. She had been pretty explicit. She didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this, and she thought Willow might have some advice for her. She’d had months of sleeping with Oz before he left. But apparently the sex between them had mostly been about sweet loving kisses and sensual massage. Oz hadn’t really been into a lot of filthy talk and public sex. Her poor friend was probably scarred for life.

 

Buffy got to her feet slowly. She really wanted to kiss Spike goodbye and that just disturbed her. So she ignored him instead. "Dawnie, you want a ride to school?" Her sister jumped up, excited. Being seen with high school kids was good for her image. And bad for Buffy's, but at least she would know that her sister got to school safe. She gave her mom a small kiss on her cheek. "Please be careful today, mom, something big is coming." She hesitated, wondering just how much to tell. She locked eyes with Spike for a moment. "If it's after dark when you're ready to leave the gallery, call Spike before you go outside…it's bad, mom. I don't want anyone outside after dark alone."

 

Buffy wished she could have spared her mom that frightened look, but she needed her to be careful. And she wouldn't be if she didn't know what was going on. She ran her fingers along Spike's shoulders when she walked past him, but she didn't kiss him. She was totally restraint girl.

 

Classes dragged by. Buffy had never been more assured that college was a waste of her time. She just wasn't book girl like Willow. And she felt a strong sense of urgency to stop this Glory. She hadn't even met the God yet and had already almost died twice. She needed to be working on saving the world, not Psychology essays. They needed to find this "key" and destroy it, or protect it, or something. Not to mention the Faith problem.

 

After her last class, she was surprised by Riley in the hall. "Buffy, wait up." He called. She couldn't very well run, because that would be beyond rude. So she stopped and smiled at him, despite being in a big hurry.

 

He caught up to her, giving his charming, boy next door smile that she liked so much. He really was very handsome in a wholesome sort of way. Kind of the antithesis of everything Spike. She imagined telling him that she spent her nights in cemeteries slaying demons and had to stop herself from laughing at Riley's imaginary look of shock. "Listen, uh, Buffy, uhm, I was wondering if maybe we could go out sometime? I have a car; we could go for a drive."

 

He was adorable, all stuttering on her behalf. She felt so bad. "Riley, I'm sorry. If you would have asked a few days ago, I would have loved to, but now I'm sorta seeing someone."

 

His face fell, and Buffy just wanted to give him a hug. "Sorta? So it's not really serious then? You could surely go for a harmless little drive with me." He gave her puppy dog eyes and a smile and Buffy laughed.

 

"Riley, I really am sorry, but I just wouldn't feel right about that. Uhm, if things don't work out, you'll be the first one I tell." Buffy gave into the impulse and leaned in, standing on her tiptoes to give him a soft peck on the cheek. He looked amazed. He really was very cute. She turned and walked away. Buffy thought she handled that really well; maybe she was finally becoming a mature grown up like Giles was always going on about. She decided she wouldn't say anything to Giles, wouldn't want to give him false hope.

 

 

 

The Magic Box was having one of those strange, super busy surges that happened every so often, so Buffy headed to the training room to work out a bit. She changed into sweats and a tank and tried to take out her frustrations on the punching bag. She found that far too painful, so she decided to meditate instead. Giles was always going on about how she needed to be in tune with both her mind and body. She wasn't very good at meditating.

 

Finally, Giles joined her. "I apologize, Buffy, for keeping you. We actually have a rather urgent situation on our hands." Buffy followed him out into the main room and took a seat at one of the tables. Giles remained standing. That was never a good sign. "I just got off the phone with one of my contacts in Tibet. Apparently, the monks that we believe were responsible for the "key" were slaughtered. The only remaining monk was on his way to Sunnydale. My contact believes that he may have taken shelter at the old monastery outside of town."

 

"Can it wait till sunset Giles? I'd like to take Spike with me." Giles made a face but didn't say anything bad about the Vampire.

 

"As much as I would like for you to have back-up Buffy, I'm afraid of Glory getting to the monk first. If she gets her hands on the "key" then we may have no way of stopping her."

 

Well, when he put it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kbeautimous for all the commas...lol...extra love and hugs!


	17. The Plot Thickens

**The Plot Thickens**

 

The monastery was deserted and eerily quiet, the door slightly ajar. Buffy had the disturbing feeling that Glory had beaten her to the punch. She found herself fervently hoping that the demented deity was long gone, because Buffy was in no condition to take on a God. Give her a couple days to heal up and she would kick this girl's godly butt., but today she was working on walking without a limp. In the foyer she found bodies, five clergymen. There would not be open caskets.

 

Buffy swallowed hard, trying to calm the bile rising in her throat. These were innocents. You didn't get much more harmless than a bunch of monks. Buffy was about to leave when she heard a low moan coming from her left, up the stairs. She crept carefully up a dozen stairs and walked stealthily into the sanctuary. A monk, badly beaten and bruised, dressed in bloody maroon robes, was tied to a chair. His eyes were unfocused and his head was lolling to the side. Buffy quickly began to untie him, assuring him she had some experience in this kind of thing.

 

"And best of all," Buffy told him brightly, spinning and grabbing a woman by the throat. "I'm not stupid."

 

Quicker than Buffy could blink the woman had swiped her hand away like a bothersome fly before casually backhanding her. Buffy flew across the room, landing hard against the wall and sliding to an ungraceful heap on the floor. Buffy struggled awkwardly to her feet. Ow, that so did not feel good. Yep, not up to taking on a God today. The woman smiled coldly at Buffy, her voice obnoxiously pitched as she said, "You sure about that last part?”

 

Buffy decided she really didn't like this hellbitch. For starters, she had no fashion sense. Who wore a skanky red dress and ugly heels to torture monks? Her smile was one of the most annoyingly fake smiles Buffy had ever seen. Like the lady was practicing at smiling and sucked at it. Like a bad commercial. All compounded by the awful shade of lipstick. Also, since this was probably Glory the God, she’d already tried to kill her twice. Buffy didn’t like Gods who tried to kill her.

 

What followed was one of the most one sided fights Buffy had ever experienced in her career. Glory bounced her around the room like a beach ball at a frat party. Buffy peppered her with lightning fast punches that had no effect and Glory responded by tossing her bodily into walls. Despite leaving no damage, she did managed to irritate the woman who threatened to rip her in half like a worm, declared that she was rude and born in a barn, and tried to “help” her fly. Maybe Buffy might have been able to keep up if she was at the top of her game, but she had been limping coming into this fight, and now things were definitely looking towards the bad. Glory’s last blow sent Buffy flying past the poor monk, and she took a moment to assess the damage done to the building with her head.

 

It was time to make her exit and retreat. She needed a better weapon, or a better plan, or a better something to take this Glory lady down. Head to head she didn’t have a chance in…wherever this bitch was from. So instead of attacking again, Buffy hobbled to the monk and hauled him up, wincing in sympathy at his pained groan. There was no way she could get past that crazy lady to the door and there wasn’t time to be gentle. She needed to move before Glory figured out what she was up to. Buffy dashed for the window instead, half dragging her rescuee...the rescued guy...what did you call a guy in the process of being rescued? Damsel? 

 

"Hey!" Shouted Glory. "Hands off my holy man!"

 

Buffy braced herself for impact and crashed through the window. All she could think as she struggled to get her body on the bottom to absorb the impact was how much this was going to hurt. The ground came up to meet her fast and hard and Buffy actually bounced. She stared at the skyline and wondered if she could just lie there and wait for sunset. She could feel Spike coming. He was furious and terrified, but he wouldn't be able to get out of his car to help her. Sunlight and all. Maybe he would have sense enough to call Giles. Somehow she couldn't picture Spike using the telephone.

 

The God was screeching and stomping in the monastery, obviously mad as hell. The whole building started shaking and Buffy was trying really hard to find the strength to get up. The building began to crumble in on itself just as Spike's Desoto came screeching up beside her. She pulled herself up and pried open the back door, shoving the monk inside none too gently. She crawled in over him and slammed the door. Spike threw the blanket he was using to shield himself aside, and floored the accelerator. Buffy looked through the scratches in the back window to see Glory clawing her way out of the wreckage.

 

Her attention was brought forcefully back to the monk when he gripped her arm in a surprisingly steel grip.

 

"My journey is done, I think." He whispered brokenly. "You must protect the ‘key.’ Many more will die if you don't keep it safe." He rasped.

 

"What is the ‘key?’" Buffy asked desperately. She hated to pump a dying man for information, but he probably didn’t have much longer, and she needed to know how to stop that crazy loon back there. She brushed his hair back from his eyes and cupped his face with gentle hands. He was so pale. She knew instinctively that he wasn't going to make it.

 

"It’s energy." He replied weakly. "It's a portal that opens the ‘door.’ For centuries it had no form at all. My brethren, its only keepers...then The Abomination found us. We had to hide the ‘key.’ Gave it form... molded it flesh... made it human, and sent it to you." Oh God, oh God. Someone she knew was the key. But she hadn't just met someone. Spike? That made no sense, she had known Spike for years. "Dawn." He whispered "Dawn is the key. We knew you would keep it safe. You are our only hope."

 

Dawn? Her sister? That made no sense. She had held her sister in her arms the day she was born. There was no way Dawn was not her sister. How, how could she be a “key” and Dawn at the same time?

 

"You put that in my house," Buffy said accusingly. "My memories, my mom's?"

 

"We built them." He says so softly that she almost couldn’t hear him.

 

"Well un-build them!" Buffy snapped. She felt violated. Her sister wasn't real. They had fucked with her memories and her life. How much of her life was real? How much was fabricated?

 

Her anger faded as the man began to cough violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You cannot abandon..." he tried to say.

 

"I didn't ask for this!" Buffy whispered, "I don't even know— what is she?"

 

With a peaceful expression, the monk replied, "Human. Now, human... and helpless." He coughed again. "Dawn is an innocent, she needs you now."

 

"She's not my sister?"

 

"She doesn't know that," he said, just before he died. Spike squealed to a stop in front of the hospital, under the overhang, and turned to her. Buffy tried to fight the tears in her eyes. She had seen so much death; she was so tired of death. Spike came around to the back door and she helped slide the monk into his arms. She leaned on him heavily and they limped into the hospital.

 

Spike stayed by her side as she was treated. A nurse tried to tell him he had to wait in the waiting room but he vamped at her and she carefully stayed on the other side of the bed after that.

 

Buffy was in so much pain she didn't even care. No one else questioned his presence by her side. The painkillers brought wonderful bliss, but also triggered her emotions. When the doctors and nurses finally left her side she began to cry, great, heaving sobs that shook her body. Spike crawled up the bed to lay alongside her and carefully held her, stroking her hair. She clung to him like the lost child she was and bawled. Later, the police woke her with questions. She stuck mostly to the truth, giving a pretty good description of Glory and her insanity.

 

They, of course, seemed doubtful, but no one could question that she had leapt from a second story window. Or the dead monk. Buffy could admit that her story of going to the monastery to seek spiritual guidance seemed a little far fetched, but hey, she was pumped up on massive amounts of morphine and all was good with the world tonight. She was vaguely aware of Spike growling and snapping at someone about visiting hours being over as she drifted in and out of consciousness. He never left her side.

 

At some point the next day she was visited by her mother and sister, and later her friends. Buffy found she really couldn't be bothered with things like smiling or keeping her eyes open. But by that evening Buffy was ready to leave the hospital. Her bones were mending nicely and the horrible rocking sensation that had plagued her had finally tapered off. Mental note to self: do not use head as a weapon against all powerful Gods. So what if she wasn't a hundred percent yet, she had a God to defeat and no time to sit around tripping on morphine. The doctor's made her mother sign un-recommended discharge forms. She should have been in the hospital for weeks. So sorry to disappoint your billing department.

 

Scooby central that evening was Buffy's living room. Spike was furious, pacing restlessly back and forth. He was nearly healed, his shoulder giving him almost no pain. He rubbed his still sore ribs absently through the fabric of his shirt. Spike had yet to say anything to her about how foolish it had been to go alone, but she knew it was coming. Spike wasn't one to keep his mouth shut about anything. Judging by the nervous look Giles wore, Spike had already torn into him. She would have to talk to him about leaving her friends alone.

 

If he was angry at her and her friends, nothing compared to the blind violent rage he felt towards Glory. Every time her name was mentioned he let out a low growl and she felt a flood of fury through the bond.

 

Giles listened to her story with his usual respect. He did not look pleased. Not that she could complain. She had just had her ass thoroughly kicked, and she couldn't blame it completely on her injuries. Nothing she had tried had even fazed Glory. The building had crashed down on her head and it barely slowed her down. She was frightened that Spike would try to find her, take her down. She knew his strength but he was no match for her. She would have to make him promise. Spike had yet to lie to her. She didn't think it was in his nature.

 

Buffy looked at Spike and he tilted his head and listened. It was remarkable the way he was so in sync with her. She didn't even need to ask. "Snack Size is in her room, door shut. Your mum's in the bath. Jasmine bubble bath." Buffy smiled at him and he smirked back at her. She wondered what Dawn would think of being called Snack Size by a Vampire. How did he know the door was shut? She'd have to ask him. She relayed to the group in hushed whispers what she had learned about the "key." To say they were shocked was an understatement. Except Giles, who just seemed fascinated by his memories.

 

Just as they were moving onto the Faith problem, the doorbell rang. Buffy got to her feet nervously and shuffled to the door. Would a God ring the doorbell? Spike shadowed her like an overgrown watchdog, but she was grateful for his presence behind her. She would have to get over this whole leaning on Spike thing. She was just fine before he came along. Stupid Vampire.

 

She mentally braced herself before opening the door. She would have rather seen Glory. Faith was leaned up against the door jamb in a pose very much like Spike's the week before.

 

Before Buffy could say a word, Faith dropped into a fighting stance, hissing,"Vampire." Not a good idea with the way Spike was itching for a fight. Spike immediately vamped, "Slayer" rolling off his tongue like honey. He gave Faith his most cocky grin and opened his mouth for some snarky comment, but Faith gave him no time; she whipped out a stake and pounced. Spike darted past Buffy, out the door to meet Faith head on. As much as Buffy would have liked to watch Spike kick Faith's bony butt, he still wasn't healed yet. And bitch or not, Faith was human.

 

Spike flew into the dark haired girl, knocking her stake aside, gripping her arm, and sending her flying at the house. Buffy winced with sympathy, having been thrown into a couple of walls herself recently. She hobbled into the yard, trying to get between them. Needless to say, compared to the fighters, she was moving at a crawl, and all the shouting in the world wasn't doing any good. Spike was in full protection mode. Faith stumbled a few steps before straightening up to meet the Vampire flying at her full speed.

 

They were a blur of fists and fangs. Spike wearing that crazy grin of his that let the whole world how much he was enjoying the violence. Faith managed to produce a knife from somewhere and got a jab in. Buffy felt the sharp echo of pain. Spike retaliated by gripping her wrist and twisting brutally until she dropped the bloodstained blade. Then he smashed his fist into her face, hard. Buffy finally managed to pull Spike back enough to get between them and narrowly missed Faith's punch that was aiming for Spike.

 

She so did not need this right now. Spike was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet behind her. It gave her a sick twisted sense of satisfaction to know that she could say the word and Spike would rip Faith’s throat out. Not that she would ever allow such a thing, but it was nice to know that the option was available.

 

"B! What are you doing? Hello! Vampire!" Faith exclaimed, obviously puzzled. And people called her blond. Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head.

 

"Did it ever occur to you to wonder why this Vampire might have an invitation to my house, ya know, all hanging with he Scooby's?" Faith looked flabbergasted. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. It was very satisfying for Buffy. Everything else aside, one thing about Faith was she was pretty hard to shock. "Spike, you might as well quit dancing around because, unless she threatens one of us, you are not going to fight her."

 

Spike moved into her personal space, slipping one hand around her waist and nuzzling her neck. He calmed instantly. "Doesn't threatening me count?" He muttered and she repressed a grin. On one hand, she was embarrassed that Spike was cuddling up to her in front of God and everybody. On the other hand, she was absurdly pleased by the look on Faith's face. Faith was always going on and on about her adventures, sexual and otherwise, but Buffy was willing to bet dollars to donuts that she had never even come close to truces with Vampires that ended up with them in her bed. But Faith could never keep her mouth shut.

 

"God B, what is it with you and the undead? Not that you don't have excellent taste in Vampires." Faith struck one of her 984 sexy poses and let her eyes travel suggestively from Spike's toes to his head. Buffy stiffened visibly. Faith had been back all of five minutes and already she was under Buffy’s skin. They had so many more important things to deal with. The last time they had been face to face, she had been out for blood. Now Faith was in her yard acting like all of that was water under the bridge. Buffy didn’t think so.

 

"Let me eat her, luv," Spike purred in her ear. So not helping. Faith heard him and wiggled suggestively. Buffy snapped. Later she would classify this as one of her insane moments.

 

"The only Slayer you'll be eating is me!" Buffy turned and stormed into the house, leaving a yard of very surprised people and un-people, as they were. Spike could take that amusement she was feeling through the bond and shove it where the sun didn't shine. Which was pretty much everywhere for Vampires. Arhg! Well, he could stuff it somewhere unpleasant that was for sure.

 

They didn't give her much respite; it was only a few minutes before everyone followed her inside. Her mom was hovering on the staircase, in her grey bathrobe. "Is everything alright honey?" She asked anxiously.

 

"I'm sorry for bothering you mom. Go ahead and finish your bath, everything's fine." She waited as her mom walked up the stairs and returned to the bathroom before whirling to face Faith.

 

“Want to tell me what you're doing here, Faith?" Buffy snarled.

 

Spike stood by the door, blocking retreat. Buffy let her eyes flicker to his abdomen where he had been stabbed. He would be fine, but she could tell that the wound hurt like a bitch. Other than the dark spreading mass on his black tee, he gave no indication that he was wounded. Faith stretched her body up like a cat might and rolled her hips in a purely indecent way. "Oh, no good to see you Faith? How was the coma?"

 

Buffy took a threatening step towards her sister Slayer. She really was in no condition to fight her, but she would not show weakness in front of Faith. She cursed the slight limp she couldn't hide. And the tears that stung the back of her eyes. She’d put Faith in that coma. It was probably the most wrong thing she’d ever done. "Relax, B! I'm thinking of going all white hat now, or maybe grey. Point is, I'm here to help you."

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And I should believe you why?" She didn't even try to keep the venom out of her voice. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of blood and betrayal and guilt. Faith didn’t get to pretend like none of it had happened. Like it didn’t matter.

 

"Because, I was hired to kill you." Faith gloated and let her words sink into gasps and silence. "Some crazy bitch with a bad perm fixed my coma and told me the price was to kill you and capture your pet Vampire. I thought she must be talking Angel, but apparently…" Faith let her voice trail off giving Spike a lusty look. Spike curled his tongue under his teeth and stared back. Buffy felt sick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely kbeautimous for the read thru. Much love and hugz!!!


	18. Green Eyed Slayer

**Green Eyed Slayer**

 

Spike watched the other Slayer with a predatory gleam in his crystal blue eyes. She paced. Not the fast, restless pace that Spike often resorted to when he was all keyed up with energy. No, Faith waltzed around the room, swaying her hips and rocking her body. Like sex on legs. Buffy fumed. If Spike didn't put his eyes back in his head she was going to rip it clear off. Faith told her story top to bottom for the third time. It didn't make any sense. She just couldn't believe that Faith had suddenly decided to turn a new leaf and really wanted to help them. She had to have an ulterior motive, some hidden plan. Faith didn't know how to play nice.

 

"Wish Dru was here." Spike sighed, stubbing out his cigarette in a white bowl, and strolled over to her. He sprawled next to her on the couch and seemed genuinely confused by her death stare. "What?" He lifted an eyebrow, feeling her cutting jealousy. He had some nerve. Staring at Faith like an overripe piece of fruit. Thinking fondly about his ex. She had felt so close to him. She was an idiot. She turned her face away from him and he gripped her chin turning her back. He leaned his forehead on hers and spoke softly. "Dru can always tell if someone is lying, it's one of her talents."

 

Buffy didn't even want to think about her other talents. She had held onto Spike for over a hundred years, and he adored her without reason. What was it about her? And Faith? How could he stare at Faith with her sitting right there? It was bad enough that Xander was drooling and that Giles was stuttering. But Spike? He was the epitome of cool. True, he hadn’t said anything or done anything obvious, at least he wasn’t flirting, but he hadn't taken his eyes off Faith since she got here. And he was aroused. Not visibly, but she could feel his excitement through the bond. 

 

Buffy pulled away from him and leaned back into the couch, resting her sore muscles. She wanted to check Spike's stab wound but she knew it would bother him to have her look in front of everyone.

 

"Maybe we could do a truth spell?" Willow said from the corner. Giles concurred with her while Faith protested that there really wasn't time for that. Giles and Willow ignored her. So she turned to Buffy and Spike instead. She sprawled in the arm chair in what Buffy was sure was a deliberately lewd pose.

 

"So what got you all banged up B?" She asked bluntly.

 

"Oh, just the usual. Hell God named Glory, trying to take over the world." Spike's hand slipped over onto her thigh and her breath hitched at the end. Faith gave her a lecherous grin and opened her mouth to say something snarky. Buffy was about to get up, to shut her up,  when Faith's facial expression shifted into something softer, more vulnerable.

 

"She scared me, Buffy." Faith whispered. "I don't want to owe her anything." Buffy was completely shell shocked and Faith looked down, suddenly shy. This was so completely out of character for her sister Slayer. She must be really scared. She’d seen this before, with Kakistos, and Buffy found herself overwhelmed with the memories of her own fears, of all they had been through. Her friends didn’t understand, how could they? Faith could. She stared at Faith’s bent head, her perfect gleaming hair, and tried to push her resentment and her jealousy to the side and just tell if she was being sincere. This didn’t feel like when she was playing them before. 

 

"Well, we're already working on how to kill her, or stop her, or whatever you do with Gods." Buffy smiled at her reassuringly, berating herself for being a soft fool. But she knew. She knew how it felt to really fear something. To know she was the Slayer and there wasn’t anyone going to save her. That she was the protector, not the protectee. "There is a prophecy and everything. And don't feel bad, you are the third assassination attempt we've had this week."

 

Buffy got up and limped into the kitchen. Willow had cast a healing spell and Buffy already felt ten times better, but she was far from in top form. Faith was wigging her out and she needed a second to get her head on strait. She frowned when Spike followed. She couldn't decide what was worse, leaving him in there to gape and stare like the others or having him follow her. The minute the door swung shut Spike slipped his arms around her and pulled her into his body, bending his head and nibbling her neck. For a moment Buffy leaned into him, completely taken over by how good he was making her feel. But then she remembered how pissed off she was at him and pulled away sharply.

 

"What is your problem, Ducks? I am going out of my way to be nice to you, despite your blinding stupidity, and all I'm getting is the cold shoulder."

 

Buffy spun too fast for her painful condition but ignored the protests that her body sent up to her brain. "Stupid, I'm stupid? You have so much room to talk, blood-breath. At least I don't have a hundred years of screwing up every single plan I ever put into motion."

 

Spike's face tightened causing his cheeks to hollow and he rocked back on his heels. "I may not be the best planner, but I know what I can and can't handle. I don't foolishly walk into fights I can't win."

 

"Oh really? Just how many times have I kicked your ass?" Buffy put her hands on her hips and fumed. How dare he call her stupid!

 

"First off, I'm not dust. Second off, I'd have killed you from the get go if your mum hadn't stepped in. We wouldn't be in this mess, and I'd have three Slayers to my name."

 

"Oh, that's right. The Big Bad’s reputation! Maybe we should change your title to Layer of Slayers." He swooped into her space so that they were standing nose to nose.

 

"Well, I knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be  _ fucking _ one." Buffy hit him in the nose. The look of shock on his face was gratifying, if only for the split second before he pulled her close and kissed her. She'd forgotten, violence was like third base to the undead. But Buffy was having none of that. She wasn't about to have him get all hot and bothered over Faith and than work his frustrations off on her. She ripped herself out of his arms and glared.

 

"That's what this is about, doing a Slayer? Well, this is the end of this freak show. I'm sure Faith will be happy to accomodate!" Buffy turned sharply so she wouldn't have to face him. She didn't want him to see the tears that stung at her eyes. She just wanted him to leave before she started to cry. But that was the thing about Spike, he didn’t leave. Not when she pushed him away, not when she hit him, not even when she kissed him. Instead of leaving, he pressed himself up against her. His legs against hers, his chest against her back, his face buried in her hair.

 

"That's what got you all hot and bothered, Buffy? You think I want candy lips out there?" His voice was low and sexy, and compared to the shouting they had been doing a moment before, it seemed very quiet. "She'd burn like whiskey going down, but she's got nothing on you." Buffy elbowed him sharply and pushed away from him, enjoying his grunt of pain. She tried to walk away but he spun her roughly and pushed her against the pantry, shielding her escape with his body.

 

His body was solid against hers. His scent surrounding her and tickling her senses. She gripped his steel forearms to push him away, but he wasn't budging. "Why would I want candy and whiskey? Not when I've got blood and chocolate right here." He brushed his lips against hers and she turned her head stubbornly. She couldn't control her wildly beating heart, the betraying blush of her cheeks, her rapid breathing. But she could still look away from his piercing blue eyes. "You've ruined me for other women, you know that, don't you?" He whispered against her neck, kissing and sucking. She found herself melting against his hard body, no longer pushing him away from her.

 

"You're all I bloody think about." He whispered between soft wet kisses, along her collarbone. "Dream about." He moved up her neck. "You're in my gut, my throat…" He kissed up her jaw. Buffy had to remind herself to breath. "I'm drowning in you, Summers, I'm drowning in you." He kissed her mouth, taking over her senses and her body. Slipping his tongue inside and plundering her mouth, rocking his body in that slow winding rhythm that was pure Spike.

She wanted him. She wanted to rip his clothing off his body and make him hers again. She wanted to make damn sure he knew just who he belonged to. She wanted to hear him call her name brokenly while he climaxed. She wanted him. But want and have were two different things. 

 

Faith came waltzing into the kitchen. "Hey," she drew out that word in that low throaty voice that made all the guys melt. Spike pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in Buffy’s neck, breathing in time with her. "Sorry to interrupt the grope fest, but all the screaming made the little people nervous and I drew short straw."

 

Buffy glared at her as Faith pulled herself up to sit on the countertop. Buffy wondered if she should tell the other Slayer that she and Spike had had steamy sex in that very spot. Probably wouldn't bother her at all, she’d probably ask for details and wiggle her brows in that sexy, naughty, bad way she had. Suddenly, what Faith had said penetrated Buffy's fog of lust and she gasped. Oh, God, what had everyone heard? Buffy tried to remember just what had been shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. 

 

Faith seemed to read her mind. "Last thing we all heard was something about ‘doing a Slayer’ and then things got quiet. I said you were probably fucking on the table but Giles and Xander seemed to think that you might have killed one another."

 

Buffy pulled away from Spike, took a deep breath, and walked into the living room to face the music. She counted to twelve before Spike followed her. If she had reached twenty she would have staked him, prophecy be damned. Faith swaggered in behind him, entirely too close to her lover in Buffy's opinion. Her mate. Her mother looked relieved and stood up from the couch. She brushed Buffy with a kiss on her way into the kitchen. Willow was busying herself with Spike's coat, the leather draped over her lap as she examined the damage. Anya, Xander, and Giles didn't bother to pretend to do anything but stare at them.

 

Buffy shifted on her feet uncomfortably in the silence. She had never seen Xander and Giles look at her in such a disapproving way, and that was saying something. There was no longer any doubt what was going on behind closed doors. Even Xander, as blind as he could be sometimes, knew. Anya broke the silence. "So were they making out on the table?" she asked bluntly. A roomful of voices sang out her name and she yelled "What?" Anya would never understand etiquette in any shape of form. But her blunt question did take the edge off the tension.

 

Willow stood hesitantly, "Spike, I think I've repaired your coat, you can barely tell it was ever ripped." Spike crossed the room, cigarette dangling out of his mouth and took his coat, swinging it around his body and sliding his arms in the sleeves. Covered in a heap of humiliation and embarrassment, Buffy still couldn't help but watch him. The sure cocky stride, the precise way he used his hands, his fluid muscles rippling under his skin. She was hopeless, and definitely without a boyfriend for too long.

 

"Red, it's like new. Really appreciate it. This duster's got a bit of history to it, it does. Would have hated to give it up." He gave Willow one of his rare genuine smiles, without snark or smirk. She seemed surprised by it and gave him back one of her Willow wattage grins. "My Slayer's tired, I think you lot ought to clear out. We can put the other Slayer on the couch." Giles bristled and finally snapped.

 

"Buffy is not your Slayer. Your opinion of what we ought to do is irrelevant. I'm beginning to concur with Buffy's original idea of chaining you up in the basement." Giles removed his glasses to clean them and continued to rant. Buffy didn't think she had ever seen him so rattled. "Despite my divulging just how important total honesty was, you deliberately misled me about the nature of your relationship with Buffy. Knowledge of the, eh, situation as it were, would have influenced my decisions regarding this matter. I certainly would have never allowed…" Spike had finally heard enough. Giles cut off abruptly when he found Spike in his face, inches apart, eye to eye.

 

"Listen here, Rupert." Spike hissed in a low menacing tone. "Buffy is mine, until this bond is broken, make no mistake about it, she belongs to me. I did not mislead you about the sex. The need to consummate the mating was a temporary side effect. Since then it has been uninfluenced by the bond. As in between us and none of your Goddamn business. As for misleading, Buffy and I were told that there was no alternative to this situation until this mess with Glory was resolved. I would hate to think you were lying to me."

 

"Enough!" Buffy yelled loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room. "Spike, go upstairs. Giles, go home. Faith, you're sleeping on the couch. Everyone clear out. I've fought enough battles today."

 

Giles head whipped around. "Joyce, you're letting him sleep upstairs!" Buffy opened her mouth to repeat her orders. Spike mirrored her. But her mom spoke first.

 

"Mr. Giles, Buffy is an adult. I don't make these kinds of decisions for her. I believe she told you to leave. I'm sure everyone will be much calmer in the morning." Giles opened his mouth and Spike let out a low growl. "In the morning." Her mother repeated firmly and Giles looked at a loss. His English manners were demanding that he leave that moment. He looked at Buffy at last, a desperate, silent plea with her. Buffy gave Spike a look and he kicked the couch on the way to the stairs. But he went. Wasn't like he wouldn't be able to hear every word said. She crossed to her watcher and gave him the firmest hug she could manage with broken ribs and a sore body.

 

"It's not as bad as you think, Giles. And arguing about it tonight isn't going to change anything. Spike is right, I am exhausted, and I need to sleep so that I can heal. We really need to focus on Glory, and you need to focus on what to do about the ‘key.’ We'll worry about the thing with Spike later. It's time to save the world again; the rest of the drama is going to have to be put on hiatus."

 

Giles gave her a kind smile and squeezed her shoulders. "When did you get so smart?" He asked teasingly and she teased back.

 

"I've always been this smart, you've just all been distracted by my blondness. Now go, I need to rest." Xander, Willow, and Anya were hovering by the door. Anya looked as though she wanted to stay but Xander kept hushing her every time she opened her mouth. She probably wanted to ask about the quality of orgasms or something. Finally, the group cleared out. Buffy had to hand out a few more painful hugs, but she didn't say anything. Her friends had been frightened for her, too. Her mom got blankets for Faith and gave her a soft kiss before heading upstairs herself, ordering Dawn to bed from the landing. She had no doubt her sister had crouched just out of sight, listening to every word said. Not her sister, some sort of creepy energy "key" thingy.

 

She faced Faith across the room. The last time she had seen her, they had fought hard, pulling no punches. Buffy had stabbed her and she had fallen right out the window. Buffy had wept for days with grief and guilt and no one had understood. Faith was family. She was the only one in the whole world who could possibly understand the pressure and stress of being a Slayer. And it hadn't been about duty, not completely, it had been about Angel. She had been willing to sacrifice a human to save him. In that moment she had been no better than the Vampires that she fought. And she couldn't explain it to anyone. No one could possibly understand what she was feeling and thinking. Except Faith, who lay in a coma. Faith understood about crossing that line for love.

 

Buffy didn't know what to say. Should she apologize? Should she offer her condolences? Faith must know the mayor was dead. He had been like a father to her. Should she just go upstairs and pretend she didn't care? 

 

"It's all right, B." Faith finally said. "I'm five by five. And you and yours will be safe as houses while I'm here. I'm not about to fuck up my only safe-haven. I'm here for the good fight until this thing is over; I'm not taking that God thing on alone."

 

"I'm glad you're OK, Faith. I…I want things to be OK, I mean, with us." Buffy stared at her hands.

 

"Go to bed Buffy, sleep, I'll be on watch tonight." Buffy gave her sister Slayer a teary smile and limped up the stairs. She hollered at Dawn to go to bed and her bedroom door shut with a click. Spike's stab wound was still hurting him badly and he was going to let her bandage it or he was going to find out just how violent she could be. Just thinking of him gave her warm shivers and she scolded herself. Bad Buffy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need to express my undying love to kbeautimous who has invested so much time and love in helping me revamp this story. All the love, all the hugs!


	19. Divide And Conquer

**Divide and Conquer**

Buffy woke slowly. The haze of sleep clung to the edge of her mind, and she was safe and warm under the covers. Spike was spooned against her, one arm draped over her waist. It was weird; Buffy had never really spent the night with anyone, except that one time with Angel. That night had been filled with tossing and turning, touching and cuddles. Until she had woken up alone. It had been hard to sleep with another body in her space. With Spike it was different. After only a few days, it was as if he had always been in her bed. Despite being half asleep, there was no surprise or unease to find him there. He belonged next to her.

Buffy lay in her warm cocoon, enjoying the way that Spike's body pressed up against hers and thought over the events of the day before. She felt the hot burn of tears and blinked rapidly to keep them from coming. Dawn wasn't real. All those memories of her were just a bunch of monks toying with her emotions. Like when Dawn had made that ashtray for Buffy's 14th birthday. She had teased her for two days because she didn't smoke until Dawn burst into tears and shouted that Buffy hated her. They had gone to the movies and bonded to make up for it. That was a lie.

Or the time that Dawn had shown naked baby pictures to Buffy's first steady boyfriend, Dave, and Buffy had gotten back at her by putting orange dye in her shampoo bottle. But her mom had used it first, Buffy got grounded for a month and had to miss a big dance. Dave had broken up with her. But now she didn't know why, because the whole Dawn fiasco was a lie. Did she ever put dye in the shampoo? How many of her memories were real, and how many were lies? How long had Dawn really been here?

Buffy became aware that Spike was stroking her arm. The sensation was oddly soothing. "Dawn's not real." She whispered softly. He ghosted a kiss to the back of her head, and Buffy felt the first tears slip past her defenses and fall wet and slow down her cheeks. "She's a complete lie, and I love her just as much as I did. Maybe more. That Glory wants her, and I can't lose her, Spike." Buffy wiped her eyes, frustrated. Spike probably thought she was a weepy cry baby. "They had no right to toy with my emotions like that." Anger was easier to cope with.

"She's here now, luv." He said softly. "Just because she just got here doesn't mean she's not your sister." Spike kissed her neck, more of a gentle nuzzle and Buffy's lips curved up in a small smile despite herself. He was obsessed with her neck. Or maybe he just knew it was her hot spot. "And she is real, she reeks of humanity, can smell it all over her." Ugh! Buffy elbowed him sharply for his roundabout slur and climbed stiffly out of bed. His hand darted out and snagged her wrist. "Where are you going?"

His voice was sharp with reprimand and she would have bristled and snapped at him if she hadn't felt his concern and a sharp current of fear fizzle through him. There hadn't been any sex last night. Despite willingness on both sides, ability left a lot to be desired. Buffy had been all systems go, despite her body's protest, but Spike had put her off. Told her it could wait until she was better. After he was all bandaged up and she had fussed over him till he snapped at her, he had held her. He had clung to her body, stroking her back and breathing in time with her. Occasional broken words of promise that he would protect her; spoken so low she didn't think that she was supposed to have heard.

"I'll be right back." She said, gently pulling her wrist from his grasp and walked out the door, closing it behind her. It was still freakishly early, dawn just around the bend. Buffy took care of her bathroom necessities as quietly as possible, so as not to wake the house. Her sleeping schedule had never been concrete, but her odd hours lately had her all turned around. Not to mention the way this whole thing was fucking with Spike's schedule. She paused while brushing her teeth to really look at herself in the mirror. The bruises on her face were all almost gone. The people at school probably thought she had an abusive parent, or boyfriend, or something.

Buffy smiled at Spike when she came back to her room. He was up pacing with his usual restless air, she had only been gone a few minutes and yet he was already impatient. The second the door swung shut he was on her. He hauled her up against him by grabbing her arms and smashed his mouth onto hers. He kissed her hard, his tongue demanded entrance, and then plundering her mouth desperately. Buffy clung to him, finding herself just as desperate for his touch. How had she become addicted to him so quickly? Later, she would care, later, it would matter that one touch from him made her head spin and her body sing. But right now she relished the way she lost herself in hot, wet kisses and slow, rocking motions.

Spike was like a whirlwind. Shedding her clothing, kissing her body frantically, rocking against her with an intensity that screamed devotion. If she didn't know better, she could fall under the spell this bond had woven over them. She could feel his deep affection for her. But it was all a lie, just like the monks with Dawn. A stupid spell had brought her contentment and partnership, but it wasn't real. They were living the dream, and that's all it was. Spike didn't really care for her. She didn't realize that she was crying until Spike kissed tears from her eyes and made soothing noises. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him slow and deep.

She felt a surge of tenderness and affection overwhelmed her for this man, this Vampire. She clawed at his faded black shirt, whipping it over his head. She loved the way he felt under her hands and tongue. All sleek, hard muscle and smooth alabaster skin. She loved the way he tasted. Skin and salt and Spike. So what if it wasn't real? Right now, he was hers. Right now, at this moment, he was completely devoted to her. And if she was honest with herself, she was completely devoted to him.

She loved the way he whispered in her ear about her taste, and what her hands felt like, and what he wanted to do to her. There was no mistaking him for a nice guy, not when he used such dirty language. It didn't matter. He was who she wanted, filthy words and all. She could pretend, just for now, that this between them was real. She fumbled with the fastening on his leather pants, it was one of those eye and hook numbers and was refusing to give. He reached down and undid the clasp for her and Buffy sighed in satisfaction.

Just for now, she would pretend that she would never have to give this up. She pushed him backwards onto the bed and didn't even flinch when the headboard banged against the wall harshly. Let them listen. Let Faith listen. She pulled his shoes off one by one and then worked his leather pants down and off. The damn things were tight. Spike sucked in air and let out a ragged sound when she swept her hands up his legs to his thighs. That was another thing she loved about sex with him. He always let her know that she felt good. Spike gave her a good tug that sent her sprawling on top of him and she laughed. "Evil!" She accused. And he agreed with her before kissing her again.

She pulled herself up so that she straddled him and he slipped inside of her. Every time they connected like this it was amazing. Spike filled her to bursting. His hands went to her hips and then caressed her bare back. Buffy threw her head back and concentrated on the way he felt inside her, delicious pressure and pleasure building and rising. Buffy's orgasm washed over her in gentle waves, soft little spasms of pleasure rocketing through her body to her fingertips. But Spike wasn't finished and rolled her to her back, pushing her into the pillows. He pulled one leg up over his elbow, spreading her wide and pushed into her deeply, hitting that spot on the inside that made her back arch and her body spasm.

Buffy clawed at him, but he was relentless. He moved in slow, smooth strokes, refusing to give into her frantic rocking. Slow torturous pleasure that bordered on pain begged to be released, but Spike just kept pushing her higher. She didn't care that she was begging for relief in cracked, sobbing sentences. Spike just kept the pleasure building until she was writhing and scratching like a mad woman. Buffy kissed his neck ardently, giving little nips, and sucking hard. Every time she bit him he would slide into her just a little harder, a little faster. Finally Buffy peaked, pleasure spiraling around her like a tidal wave. Great, heaping spasms that left her shaking and clutching at Spike while he gave into his own release.

Buffy gave into the desire to curl up with him on the bed. He reached down and pulled the comforter over them, wrapping her in his arms. It was odd the way that Buffy felt no embarrassment about being pressed up against him, naked skin on naked skin. It was the most natural thing in the world to lay here with him, her body draped over his, one leg between his thighs. Despite being wide awake just minutes ago, Buffy almost immediately drifted off, completely content.

 

* * *

 

Spike hadn't wanted her to go. They had argued, and they had kissed…right in front of everyone. Then they had argued some more. Apparently the passion they shared in the bedroom spilled right over into their arguments. Spike was being an overbearing ass. He argued that this Glory God woman wanted to separate them because she couldn't win against both of them. So they should stick together like glue till she was good and dead. Buffy argued that she was going with Faith, Xander, and Willow, to the magic shop. Giles would be there, and they needed to research. She was already skipping out of school, and she didn't want to give this Glory bitch time to figure out about the key. He, of course, had wanted to go. But Buffy had talked her mom and sister into staying home, and she needed Spike to stay and protect them. He wanted Faith to stay so he could go with her and she had been unable to explain that Faith couldn't really be trusted completely with the girl glaring at her across the room. So instead she kept insisting that Spike couldn't go out in the daylight, which was a weak argument...because Spike.

Finally, she had stormed out the door without resolving a damn thing. When Xander started to tease her, she had lashed out at him, too, resulting in a silent drive to the Magic Box. She could see where Spike was coming from; they did need to stick together as much as possible. She would not be going patrolling, or to check anything else out, without him. But she needed him to stay with her mom and Dawn. She couldn't leave them alone. And she trusted Spike more than anyone else right now, as crazy as that was. She knew he would protect her family.

Destroying the key was out of the question now. If Dawn was ever going to be safe, they needed to figure out how to kill Glory, strip her of her power, send her to another dimension. Whatever you did to Gods. Giles hadn't been able to find her in any of his books. Willow had tried scouring the internet. This Glory was an unidentified enemy. So they had moved onto plan B, and were now trying to find references to other Gods and how to defeat them. The outcome did not look good. Apparently Gods were immortal, and without weakness. Wonderful. Willow had decided to research possible powers of the mating bond thingy, since there were so many prophecies about it.

Spike was still angry at her, and worried. He was sitting, most likely watching TV. For an evil Vampire, he sure watched a lot of the boob tube. He floated in the back of her head. Buffy smiled at Xander when he leaned back, complaining loudly about the crick in his neck. Anya immediately made noises of comfort and began to massage his shoulders. Buffy was trying to get to know Tara, Willow's new girlfriend, and include Faith in the conversation. Faith was still monosyllabic and a irritated Faith was never good. Tara seemed really nice, if a little shy. But she was a witch, too, and smart. Buffy thought they made a nice couple, and was glad that Willow had found someone who obviously made her deliriously happy.

Suddenly she felt alarm course through her body and realized belatedly that it was Spike's emotion.

She jumped up and screamed that they needed to go. Giles and Xander were asking her what was wrong, but she could barely talk because of the huge adrenaline rush she was feeling. Then she felt a strong echo of pain. He was fighting. That's why she was coursing with adrenaline. "It's Spike, he's hurting, and fighting. We have to get home right now." She hauled Xander out of his chair and pulled him out the door. They were almost to the car when she focused enough to realize he was trying to get away from her because his keys were on the table. Buffy was frantic, her body jerked with each pain Spike had. His stomach, his right arm, a sharp twist to his knee. And she was only feeling an echo. They had to hurry.

They sped down the road like mad people and Buffy didn't care. She was out of the car and up the steps before the car even stopped, even though she knew Spike wasn't there. She needed to check on her mom, and Dawn. He was west of the house, and moving farther away. "Mom!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. "Dawn!" Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might burst from her chest. Spike wouldn't let anything happen to them. She heard her mom respond and she appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Buffy, what's going on? Spike told us to hide and then there was all this crashing around downstairs."

"Are you both OK?" Buffy asked, raking her eyes over her mother and sister critically.

"Yes Buffy, we're fine. Where's Spike?" There was a wrenching pain in his shoulders and Buffy raced for the door desperately. Whoever had him was going to pay big.

"Stay with my mom!" She shouted, even as she ran past the startled faces of her friends and down the road like a mad woman. He was like her personal compass. She sped down the street with big, loping strides, using every ounce of her supernatural speed. Then, suddenly, she couldn't tell what direction Spike was in. She could still feel him in her head just as strongly as before, but for the life of her she couldn't point out his position in relation to her. It was as if a part of their bond had vanished. Buffy stumbled to a halt, suddenly lost. She had to find him. She ran a little further before deciding to have Willow cast a location spell.

* * *

 

The location spell didn't work. Willow said that any number of cloaking spells could hide his location. Giles had no idea if a cloaking spell could hide him from her. Buffy paced back and forth. No one had the nerve to tell her that she was taking on a Spike characteristic. She could feel every echo of the pain he was feeling, and knew how bad he was hurting. She didn't even know where to begin looking for him. She was desperate and frightened. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her and she raced to the phone. She dialed information and waited impatiently to be connected to Angel Investigations.

Cordelia answered the phone with a professional air. Buffy felt a very small pang of regret for her rudeness when she asked for Angel without a word for her former sort of friend.

"May I ask who's calling?" Cordelia asked, and Buffy knew damn good and well that she knew who was on the phone.

"PUT ANGEL ON THE FUCKING PHONE!" She screamed. Someone was cutting him, that bitch was cutting him. With some sort of sharp edge. Oh God, Glory was so gonna die, slow and painful. After a moment of silence, Angel's soothing voice comes on the line. "Can you find Spike?" She blurted out without any sense of decorum. Way to sugar coat there, Buffy.

"Buffy?" He asked, confusion in his voice. She could almost picture his concerned face, the phone held up to his ear.

"Yes, Spike's in trouble, Angel. She's hiding him from me." Buffy didn't realize she was crying until she heard the tears in her voice. She had to find him. "Somehow she's cloaked him, he's hurting and I can't find him. I need your help." Xander put an arm around her shoulders and somehow that small comfort made things even worse.

"Someone's hurting Spike? Buffy, what's going on?" Buffy broke down into incoherent sobs. She tried desperately to explain what was going on, but with all the wailing and hiccupping, she may as well have been speaking Greek. Finally, Angel interrupted her. "Buffy, if I pull a William, I can be there in forty-five minutes. Can you hold it together for that long?" Pull a William? Forty-five minutes? She must have wailed out some sort of consent because the phone line went dead in her hand and Willow gently took it from her and placed it on the cradle.

Buffy waited anxiously by the window, jumped up and paced for a while, then perched at the window again. Repeat. Her mom tried to get her to eat something but she would never have been able to hold anything down. She watched Faith wolf down spaghetti with a weird detachment, her mind spinning, her stomach was twisted in knots of fear and anxiety. She tortured herself, imagining what might be causing all the horrible pain Spike was in. Were they cutting him again, were they hitting him?

Faith quietly said, "If they were planning on dusting him, they probably would have already." Having that truth said out loud did manage to offer her some amount of cold comfort. "Angel will be here soon and we will get him back." How upside down her life was that she was getting reassured by Faith of all people.

Forty-five minutes had never crawled by so slow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely Kbeautimous for the edit job. So appreciative!


	20. Blood Bonds

Blood Bonds

Eternity trickled by in slow seconds and timid minutes. When Buffy was certain that she would burst, Angel's low-slung car finally turned into her drive. Cordelia was driving. She hopped out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door. A cloaked figure dashed to the house under a smoldering blanket. Angel was pulling a William. Buffy had no time to smile about the little joke though; she flung open the door, whispered an invite, and hauled Angel inside. She even repressed the desire to slam the door in Cordelia's face.

"Can you feel him?" She asked without preamble. Angel didn't answer. He stood stupidly in front of the door, just staring at her. "Well? Can you tell where Spike is? I really don't understand about the whole vampy bond thingy." Buffy couldn't keep the sharp bite of impatience out of her voice. An hour, they had taken him a little over an hour ago.

"What? How? I mean, Buffy he's all over you!" Buffy put her hands on her hips and gave him her best glower. Was he planning on helping or just sitting there rambling? "When? How long have you been mated? It isn't even possible with a human. What the hell were you thinking, Buffy? Spike is a dangerous killer!"

Buffy felt like screaming. Couldn't he just answer the fucking question? "Prophecy. End of the world. Spell gone wonky. Hell God trying to kill us! Blah, blah, blah. I'll explain later. Spike is being tortured right now! For me! I can't feel where he is, because of some spell or another, and I need to get him out!"

"Geez, chill, Buffy, it's just Spike." Cordelia gave her patented eye roll and Buffy lunged at her. Lucky for Her Bitchiness, Angel managed to catch her around the middle before Buffy could pound her face in. She was so not in the mood for Cordelia's 0 to bitch in 90 seconds routine.

"Buffy, I can't feel him as strong as I should be able to. But I have no doubt that I can track him after the sun goes down. We'll find him and we'll get him out. I've got to talk to Rupert. Try not to kill or maim anyone." Somehow, just hearing someone say that they would find him calmed her. She went back to pacing, pretending she couldn't hear Giles and Angel talking in hushed, quiet whispers. Giles explaining what was going on and Angel demanding to know why he wasn't called earlier. The wait was excruciating.

Finally, the sun sank in a fiery ball below the horizon. Buffy was reminded of another time she had waited for the sun to sink, just a handful of days ago. How had everything changed so fast? 

Buffy left Anya and Giles with her mom and Dawn. Angel said he couldn't really feel Spike, but he could smell him. So they set off on foot the way that Buffy had ran in the first place. Angel led the way, Buffy dogging his heels. Cordelia, Willow, and Xander followed in a loose knot, with Faith bringing up the rear...just in case. Buffy told them that the priority was getting Spike out so as soon as he was free, they were to get out as quick as possible. They needed a better plan before they took on Glory in earnest. Buffy was a nervous ball of energy. Spike was fading in and out of consciousness. Each time he started to fade her heart stopped, sure he was dust, then would pound again when she realized he was just feeling no pain for a brief second or two.

Just after the point that Buffy had stopped earlier, when she was chasing after her mate, Angel turned left. He trotted along without hesitation. When she asked if he was sure they were going the right way; Angel gave her an inscrutable look and said that the smell of Spike's blood was heavy on the air. She almost wished she hadn't asked. Angel led them on a twisting journey through the streets, ending in the warehouse district. Poor Cordelia was huffing and puffing like the little engine that couldn't. Willow and Xander weren't doing much better. Buffy felt a burst of love for her friends that they would push themselves so hard for her. She had no illusions that anyone but her, and maybe Angel, was here for Spike.

They stood in front of an old abandoned building. Angel was balanced on the balls of his feet, completely focused. "He's definitely in there." He said quietly. "What are the odds that this is a trap?"

"Why would they cloak the bond if they wanted me to come after him?" She asked. It was nice, side by side with Angel about to do some serious Slaying. She missed having him with her at times like this. Oh, God. This was a moment of clarity. She missed his companionship; she missed his back-up. But she no longer missed his kisses. Buffy almost wept with the realization that the desperate flame she had carried for Angel had finally smoldered out. To be replaced by a craving that could very well consume her completely. She needed to be careful with her heart. So careful.

"We're going in regardless." Angel replied with a shrug. It was one of the things she admired about him. Cool composure in the face of the odds. They skirted the direct path of the windows and edged closer to the building. The front door was one of those heavy steel numbers, with an impressive looking lock mechanism. Angel ruthlessly twisted the handle and wrenched the door open.

They were met by Spike, stumbling down the hall, completely oblivious to their presence and being chased by short little henchmen in brown robes. Angel sprung past Spike quicker then she could blink and made quick work of the two little men in the hall. Buffy slipped under one of Spike's rather bloody arms and took his weight onto her shoulders. She felt blood spray over her back and stared for a second at the horrible pattern it made on the wall, but she didn't turn around and look. She was pretty sure those two men had been human. The moment she touched her mate she felt the thin veil between them lift and took a deep painful breath as her echo of his pain became more intense. Glory was going to die a long, painful death.

Angel swept Spike up into his arms like a sack of potatoes and they ran outside. Buffy could hear Glory shrieking for them to come back with her Vampire. Buffy whipped around, regardless of what she had told the others, Spike was hers! Xander yanked on the hood of her sweater, pulling her off balance and stumbling. He was right. She ran with the others, feet pounded heavily on the blacktop. They were not followed.

 

Spike was being carried by strong muscular arms that seemed vaguely familiar. Buffy was close to him, their bond no longer shielded. He took a deep breath to catch her scent and was assaulted by another scent. A scent of home and family and power. The scent of Angelus. Spike was obviously hallucinating. He carefully kept his eyes closed and deliberately kept from any additional breathing. Christ, his bloody body hurt. He felt like Martha Stewart on a bender. Seriously twisted out of shape.

He was shifted and bounced rather roughly. Judging by the scent around him they were headed up the stairs of Buffy's mum's house. A soft woman's voice, Joyce, asked after him and was sent away. Spike hitched his breath when he was deposited onto his mate's bed. The door clicked shut with an air of finality. Spike could smell rage all over his Sire. The question was: who was he mad at? That Glory cunt, him, or Buffy? Probably all three, he was right steamed. Angelus pulled his bloody shirt away from his body and Spike had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound of agony. "What the hell have you been doing to my Childe?" Angelus seethed angrily. Okay, pissed at Buffy then.

"What do you mean?" Buffy's voice was soft and wounded. He could feel her confusion coming from the bond. Had Angelus ever spoken to her that way? Probably not, especially since he was toting around his shiny soul.

"Look at him! That stab wound is at least 20 hours old! He looks like he's been used for a punching bag for at least a week!" Angelus punched something; there was a dry crunching sound. Most likely punched the wall. "Jesus Christ, Buffy! Is that a stake wound? What the fuck have you been doing to my Childe?" His voice was louder, harsh, and angry.

"I…There's been assassins. Some pink thing, and Vampires and Faith…We've both been hurt." Buffy was rattled to say the least. He felt her overwhelming concern for him, her fear and affection. And her confusion. She didn't really understand, Angelus had probably led her to believe that he hated his Childe. But Angelus had always reserved the right to punish him for himself. Regardless of everything, they were family. Spike had been the favorite Child for over two decades; he and Angelus had been very close, in a violent love hate sort of relationship.

"YOU LET FAITH STAB HIM AND SHE'S STILL IN THIS HOUSE?" Angelus bellowed. Buffy let out a surprised sound and Spike realized with a shock that he had started towards her. Spike found himself quite grateful that his Sire had something else to be pissed about besides him shagging his girl six ways from Sunday.

"That's enough Angelus." His voice came out raspy and wounded, not at all strong like he needed it to be. He hated for Angelus to see him like this, bruised, battered, broken. It was a shame that he couldn't at least sound strong and authoritative. Spike cracked his eyes open, wincing at the harsh light in the room, gauging his Sire's reaction to his given name. He liked to be called that nancy boy name now, Angel. But he was still Angelus, no matter what he liked to pretend. Both sets of eyes in the room snapped to him, both concerned. At least before Angelus masked all emotion behind that tight mask he wore all the time now. "Leave her be."

The older Vampire gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and walked closer to the bed. He seemed to consider for a moment and Spike made sure to maintain eye contact. Rather stupid of him to provoke his elder that way, but he couldn't help it, blatant disregard for the safe approach was just part of him. Angelus' lips turned up in the barest of smiles, he knew Spike was challenging him and found it funny. A gravelly growl escaped Spike's dry, scratchy throat. Quicker than thought, Spike found himself repositioned, leaning up against his Sire's broad chest, cradled in the vee of his legs. Angelus held his vulnerable wrist to his Childe's lips and Spike let out a hungry sound before he could stop himself. "Trying to fatten me up before I'm led to slaughter?"

Apparently Angelus' indulgence was at an end because he twisted his hand roughly in Spike's hair pushing his face into the wrist. "Drink the fucking blood, William." Spike hesitated, trying to judge just how far he could push the other Vampire. Angelus twisted his hair ruthlessly and Spike Vamped and bit into the soft pale skin. Didn't know why he was making a big deal out of it anyway, it was in his best interest. Hot, rich, powerful Sire's blood flooded his mind and senses. It numbed his pain and heightened his perceptions. "Wouldn't my blood help him more?" Buffy questioned from beside the bed. She had moved closer to it. He met her eyes even as he sucked greedily from the jagged wound he had left on his Sire's wrist. Tosser shouldn't have yanked on his hair so hard.

Spike frowned around the wrist in his mouth when the Slayer's gaze left him and focused on Angelus instead. "No, Sire's blood is best." He replied, voice soft and soothing, his emotions apparently back on that annoying even keel. Buffy gazed at him, concern and love evident in her gaze. The way that she would never look at Spike, no matter what he did, because he was an evil soulless git. Spike shifted, uncomfortable with the jealousy rushing through his system. Unsure of just who he was jealous of. 

He could feel Angelus' hardness against his backside, which was why he was in his lap. Fact was, bloodletting was an incredible aphrodisiac, wouldn't want the Slayer to see the effect his Childe was having on him. "Enough, William"

Without thought, Spike slit his tongue with his fangs and ran his soothing blood over the wound he had made. A shudder ran through Angelus at the sensation, and Spike cursed himself for a bloody wanker, shoving the arm roughly from his mouth. Old habits die hard. And if the git called him William again, he was going to rip his sodding head off. It was a little late to be playing Sire games now, a hundred bloody years too late. Truth was, he felt fifty times better, but he'd hang himself on a cross and wait for dawn before he'd say thank you. Spike struggled to his feet and his Sire did nothing to stop him. Buffy grasped his arm as if to hold him up. He'd admit that he was weak as a day old kitten, but he pulled himself from her grasp, anyway. He also ignored the hurt expression on her face. He'd make it up to her later, that is if she let him touch her. She reeked of guilt, now that she had been reminded of the magnificent pouf and his shiny soul.

"Feeling the pull of family, Angelus? Decided to come tend to your responsibilities?" His Sire winced visibly and turned his head. But Spike never did know when to quit, and keeping his mouth shut wasn't his strong suit. He drew in a sharp breath at the pain of tight leather on his bruised knuckles as he fished around in his pocket. He hissed out loud when he brushed cold metal. He grasped the chain and pulled it from his pocket. Angelus surged to his feet and they both stood, mesmerized for a moment by the spinning charm. Drusilla's cross. She'd worn it the day she was turned. Angelus had thought it was funny to leave it on her to burn her when she rose. Spike had had to take it away from her; she wouldn't quit burning herself with the damn thing. He flung it hard, but his infuriating elder caught the damn thing before it could brand his face. "You have other responsibilities." Spike hissed.

Buffy was brimming with concern and confusion. She took his arm again and he leaned into her instinctively. It just came so naturally. He turned his head to breathe in her scent for a moment and was overwhelmed by the sweet smell of her hair. His demon melted away at her nearness and his body swayed closer to soak up more of her heat. Christ, she made him dizzy. Or maybe it was all the torture. One could never be sure. 

"There is nothing that can be done for Dru, you know that, Spike."

Angelus's voice had a sharp edge, and he knew him well enough to know that it was time to drop the subject. His head swiveled back to pin Angelus with a glare. "She needs to be watched, I can't right now." Spike carefully did not look in Buffy's direction, but he felt her stiffen beside him. Strong currents of jealousy almost overwhelmed her concern. And the confusion was gone. She knew who they were talking about now. Hadn't he told her that Drusilla was lost to him? Didn't she understand that Dru would never take second fiddle? After Buffy, that was all he could offer. 

"She might decide to frolic in the sunlight, or forget to eat, or burn herself with crosses. What's the matter, Peaches? Helping your own creation doesn't even the score any in the quest for redemption?" His voice had a bit of bitter edge to it as well. 

Angelus wore that lost puppy expression that was new since the soul. The why is everyone picking on me? look. The look that signified everything that was different now. The look that Spike hated. "I came here to help you, Spike.” Wrong tactic. No soul, no remorse. So guilt trip 67 wasn't going to work.

"Yeah, so long as it doesn't tarnish your shiny soul. Tell me, Peaches, does helping the undead count? Can you put up a mark on the good deed side of the scoreboard? What are you behind now, 3 million?" Spike swayed embarrassingly, so he threw himself into Buffy's vanity chair in a lazy sprawl. "Well, you've done your civic duty, and I'm knackered, so you can piss off now."   
Spike watched Angelus closely; he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He'd bet dollars to donuts that the old man was counting to ten. The other Vampire relaxed by bits, until his hands hung loose at his sides.

"What do you need, painkillers?" His voice was soft and even. God he hated that, Spike wanted to push his buttons, rattle him.

"I told you what I need. Your soul damage your hearing? Need things repeated now, like a three day old fledgling?"

His jaw clenched and his large hands formed tight fists. "I can't harbor a cold blooded killer, Spike. Dru would never be able to fit in with my lifestyle now." Voice still soft and even.

"Dru'll do whatever Daddy tells her to." Angelus let out a low, inhuman growl of frustration and spun away from both of them, exposing his back. Before the soul, Angelus would never have turned his back on him. Angel was a fool. A weeping, pansy ass fool, staggering under the weight of a two hundred year old soul that could never be redeemed. He could try for all eternity, he was still a Vampire. A thing so evil and vile that the heavens wept. Forever banned to the darkness, animated by stealing the blood of others. The soul didn't change his name and it didn't change what he was. It just made him weak.

"Buffy, why do you put up with him? Is he killing?" His voice was still even. Gods, he hated that composure.

"No" Her answer was simple. Without adornment, spoken in a firm, unwavering voice. Had to admire the girl. His girl. Hell of a spine she had.

Angelus spun back to them, almost wearing a sneer before he could school his features to careful blandness once again. "And you believe him?"

"He hasn't left my side." His Sire visibly flinched. Surely he could smell him all over the Slayer. All over her room. Spike couldn't help his smirk. But it didn't matter who was shagging her, Angelus still won. He had made a slayer fall in love with him, and she loved him still. His smirk turned sour and he shifted uncomfortably. What he really needed was to dive into Buffy's warm bed and stay there for three days. Heal up good so they could get to slaying evil hell Gods who liked to fuck with him.

"Spike, what did Glory want with you?" Buffy's voice was gentle, in no way accusing. He flinched anyway. He absently ran his hand over broken skin. The bitch had worked him over properly. Pinchers, holy water, fire...she’d been prepared for a Vampire specifically, and knew her pain causing techniques quite well. 

"Well, first, she wanted to know who the key was. Then she wanted me dead so that she could defeat you without a problem. I told you we needed to stick together."

In true Buffy fashion, his mate ignored most of what he said. "Did you tell her about Dawn?" She had an almost desperate air about her and Spike hated the fear oozing through her. Angelus left on silent feet, and with his withdrawal, Spike took a deep calming breath and relaxed. He rose and limped to the bed, falling heavily into the sweet softness of Buffy's pillows.

"No, luv, I didn't tell her. But she knew it had become human. Maybe it would be a good idea to send the family off with Peaches to LA. Least till we can kill the soddin' bitch. I'd prefer her in little bloody bits, I'll bathe in her blood, I'll do the bloody backstroke…"

Buffy sat on the bed with him and he drew in a sharp hiss when her weight jarred his broken bones. She started to flit away, guilty, but he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back down next to him. She reached out hesitantly, touching his bruised and battered face. "Do you think it's safe to move them? It might advertise just who the key is if we try to get someone out of the city."

"Don't know, luv. She's scary powerful, but those prophecies of Rupert's say we can defeat her. We just have to figure out how. She doesn't know everything or she wouldn't have to resort to torture to get information." Buffy gave him a wry look.

"I couldn't find you. I had to call Angel. He came right away; you don't have to give him such a hard time." Spike looked away from her, pain and jealousy washing over him. He wished he could keep that from her. She gave him one of those sympathetic looks that made him want to snarl and growl.

"If I didn't take the piss out of him he'd think I was mad at him." Buffy gave a low, sexy laugh and Spike found himself regretting that he was in no condition to shag her. Make the bloody pouf listen while he made Buffy scream and beg in pleasure. 

His girl lay down beside him, one hand light on his stomach. Gods, she was beautiful. Gods, his body hurt. He'd give his left arm for some blow, or smack, or anything, really. He hated to say it, but if it weren't for the Sire's blood, he probably wouldn't even be able to keep consciousness. He was seriously tore up. Buffy dozed, and he drifted in and out, in far too much pain to actually get any real rest.

Spike felt a Vampire approaching the bedroom and stiffened, even though he knew it was Angelus. Buffy's bug sense, or whatever she called it, clued her in and her eyes snapped open. They both watched the door, bodies coiled tight, until Angel came in silently, holding a man up by the arm. He was scrawny and wild eyed, gaze darting around the room anxiously, heart beating out a marathon in his bony chest. Spike could smell the substances on him, marijuana and something else he couldn't place.

"All I could find was some morphine." Spike climbed slowly to his feet, in painful little lurches. Buffy sat up behind him, eyes wide with confusion. 

Fact was, Vampires bodies only processed blood, so the only way to take in a drug effectively was through someone else's blood. He could either do enough lines to slay a dragon, or drink from someone who was already high. To say he was shocked that Golden Soul Boy had actually brought him a live someone was the understatement of the year. There was a moment of hesitation before Angel shoved the man roughly in his direction. "He walks away from here, William."

His Sire's voice was cold and without emotion. He had no doubt that the older Vampire would kill to save this man's worthless life. He pulled the man close, breathing in his fear and confusion. Angelus had obviously not explained in detail what would be required of him. He looked the man in the eyes and vamped. His eyes went wide and he struggled a bit, but Spike didn't waste time, he bit shallow and drank deep. He only had a few moments before Buffy got between them. Maybe the guy would think he had a bad dream. Buffy leapt to her feet in outrage. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Angel? He can't drink that man! What are you doing?" She shrieked when Angelus grabbed her arm and hauled her back from Spike.

"He needs this." The older Vampire had his head cocked, carefully listening to the man's heartbeat. He needed have bothered, he wouldn't kill in front of Buffy, she would never stand for it. Buffy squeaked indignantly and ripped her arm free; she had barely started towards them when Spike released his victim. The drugs hit his system in a rush and he fell back on the bed in blissful relief. Angel whipped out his wallet and began to count out twenties. "I've got to see him out."

Buffy was in her Slayer stance, arms crossed, eyes flashing. She was magnificent. "This isn't over Angel."

"I know." He replied before ghosting away, shaking boy in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the divine kbeautimous for the lovely edit job, all the love forever!


	21. The Things You Thought You Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing kbeautimous for the lovely edit job

**The Things You Thought You Knew**

 

 

Buffy stood and watched Spike for a moment. She felt his head spin and his body relax. She couldn't believe Angel. The nerve of bringing Spike a victim. How could he possibly think that she would be on the line with that? But Spike did feel better. Woozy and fuzzy, but in almost no pain. She turned and left the room quietly. She gathered clean first aid supplies from the bathroom and returned. He was sitting up now, elbows on knees, staring at his feet. Sometimes he had such a lost puppy dog look to him. It made her want to comfort him, hold him, which was ridiculous. He was a ruthless killer who preyed specifically on Slayers because they were a challenge to him. A ruthless killer who had just drank from a human’s neck.

 

"Your mom? Your sister?" He asked softly. His eyes were all too human, looking up at her with such concern. If everything that she believed about Vampires was true, why would Spike risk his own existence for her family? For her, he'd done it for her. And staring into his eyes like that, she knew he'd do it again in a heartbeat. For all his faults, Spike was loyal and fearless. She knelt down in front of him and undid the closure of his leather pants. They were ruined, another piece of pretty clothing bound for the garbage. It wasn’t his fault. It was Angel’s. Angel was the one who hunted that guy down, brought him to Spike.

 

"They're fine. Thank you." He lifted his hips off the bed and she pulled the pants down his legs and off. Even in his drugged state he let out a low whistle of pain when the leather peeled away from his mangled knee and Buffy winced. She was so stupid. She should have cut the fucking pants off. She grasped the scissors and made quick work of what was left of his t-shirt, revealing just how bad the mass of burns and cuts was. She doused the knee with antiseptic and he jerked involuntarily out of her hand. "I should get Giles; I'm not skilled enough for this."

 

"No, not Giles. I just need to snap it back in and wrap it up." He started to reach down but she pushed his hands away. She could do this. She grasped his leg on either side of the damage and pulled hard. When she let go his knee rubber banded back into place. She didn't realize that tears were coursing down her cheeks until his gentle hand brushed them away. She looked up at him and he slammed the heel of his hand into his knee. There was a sickening crunch and Buffy quickly looked back down. It looked almost normal now, except for the blood and the bruising. She pulled over clean bandages and began to wrap. "Wrap tighter, luv, don't have to worry about my circulation."

 

She finished quickly, and looked back into his eyes. Eyes that didn't look soulless. Eyes that looked sorrowful, and loving, and lustful. Blue pools of desire that made her body stir and her heart tug. Still, it was a shock when he pulled her close and kissed her. For one heart stopping moment she kissed him back with everything she had. Then she pulled back sharply. "No, I'll hurt you."

 

"Baby, I'm feeling only good things." He tugged on her hand lightly and she tumbled into him. Why was she only clumsy around Spike? She tried to pull away, but he had cupped one strong hand around her bum and it felt so nice there. In his completely naked state she could see that he was standing at attention for her, full salute. He brushed his lips across her bare neck and she shivered with pleasure. "Hush, luv, I need you."

 

And he did. The echo of his desire was hitting her hard, just an edge of his spinning lust cut through her and left her throbbing with want. His emotions felt raw and untethered, spasming between them. It was weird being connected to him right now. His pain was sharp and real, and yet separate from his experience. Regardless of his overwhelming wanting, it couldn’t possibly be good for him to get “physical” with her right now. What he ought to do was not move until he started to heal up. That Sire’s blood of Angel’s was doing it’s job though, she could feel bones knitting up even as she assessed his injuries in her head. Apparently biting Angel was just as good as a super wattage Willow spell.

 

She steadied herself on her knees and reached up with both hands to cup his face. Swollen and bruised and beautiful. If he hadn't stayed to make sure that her family was safe, he most likely could have gotten away. That Vampire stealth was unmatched by other creatures. She brushed a light kiss across his lips, he leaned in to deepen the caress but Buffy pulled back. She trailed her hands lightly down his chest, brushing soft wet kisses in her wake. She delighted in the power of her touch, goosebumps trailed her hands, and each soft kiss brought trembles and moans. His ribs were a mass of mottled bruises, layered one over the other. No wonder Angel had been furious, Spike was quite a sight. Buffy just hadn't realized that they were close like that. She had always been given the impression that they hated each other.

 

Her mind flashed back in time to one night, the three of them had been arguing. She had taken a step towards Spike and Angel had angled his body just slightly so that he stood between them. At the time she had assumed that Angel was protecting her, but looking back, he had been protecting Spike. After all, she had been the aggressor.

 

She ran her hands gently over his busted ribs. "Let me wrap these for you." He didn't protest and she reached again for the long white strips of bandage. He filled his lungs with air, pushing his ribs out, and Buffy stifled a cry at the soft echo of his pain. She was no longer angry with Angel about the painkillers; she didn't even want to think about what these bandages would have cost her mate in pain without them. The guy was alive, probably thought it was all a hallucination. She covered the worst of the cuts and burns to keep out dirt and sweat and rested her hands lightly on his hips.

 

"You're overdressed, Buffy." He whispered, and as usual, her name on his lips sounded like a dirty pet name, just used between the two of them. He reached for the hem of her shirt but she stopped his hands.

 

"Spike, you're a mess, lay back, I'll please you." She whispered, unwilling to shatter the mood with a loud, harsh voice. His eyes darkened with lust and his hands turned in hers, lacing with her fingers.

 

"I want all of you Slayer, right now." Her breath hitched. He drew her hands up over her head and left them there. "I want to hear those soft breathy moans you make and feel your hot little body writhing beneath me." He whipped her shirt over her head and ran his hands over her back to her bra clasp. "I want to feel your breath on my neck and your sweet cunny when you cum." Her bra fell open and he wrenched if off, filling his hands with her pink breasts. He bent his head and nuzzled her before darting out his tongue and caressing one hard nipple. "Oh Christ, Buffy, want you so bad."

 

Buffy pulled back, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Spike, we can't, everyone will hear." He pulled her back in and kissed her softly.

 

"Everyone's downstairs, luv, even little bit." Little bit? He nibbled on her bottom lip and Buffy let slip an involuntary sound of passion. Good going Slayer, urge him on why don't you? She pulled back again and looked him in his eyes.

 

"Angel will hear." The small current of jealousy that had been running through the back of his mind since Angel's appearance suddenly flooded through her.

 

"Angelus isn't even here." He bit out angrily. His eyes flashed gold in the dim light before returning to their usual piercing blue.

 

"He'll be back, Spike. I'm going to go downstairs to check on the others." She started to move away but he grasped her shoulders and held her where she was.

 

"Buffy, what does it matter if he hears?" His voice was loud and angry. He tugged her close and kissed her hard. "Fuck, he gave you up." He fisted his hands in her hair and kissed her again. Softer, but no less desperate. He swept his tongue in her mouth and claimed her completely. An eternity later he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. "You're mine now." He whispered. "Please don't go."

 

Buffy found herself kissing him against her better judgment. For some reason, every time he called her "his" it melted her inside. In an independent society of strong women, that was practically blasphemy, and she would never admit it to anyone. God, he tasted good, even now. The needy edge to his kisses stole her breath. He made her feel wanted and cherished and needed in a way that defied reality. His hands seemed to be everywhere, her shoulders, her breasts, in her hair. He scooted back onto the bed more firmly and she followed, desperate now for his touches and caresses. Why did he have such a profound effect on her?

 

He turned her over so his body covered hers and sighed with satisfaction. His hand ran down her body slowly, fingers soft and questing, till he reached the fastening on her pants. It was one of those hook and eye things but it didn't faze him for a minute. He made quick work of the clasp and she lifted her hips and helped him get them off. His bare skin came into contact with hers and she let out another moan. She was trying so hard to be quiet but he just wasn't helping any. He pushed her panties down her legs and ran his hands back up her body till he reached her center. His fingers found her wet and wanting and he let out a low growl. "Now, Spike.” she moaned. “Don't wait, I want you now."

 

He let out a string of husky swear words and pulled her legs around his hips, sliding deep inside. Buffy lost all control over her voice, babbling his name over and over as he filled her with pleasure. Throaty words of lust washed over her. She loved listening to him talk even when she was too far gone to pay attention. He moved inside her with strong, slow, sure strokes. In desperation she tightened her legs around his hips, careful to keep below his broken ribs, and urged him for more with words and movements. It wasn't long before she was clawing at his shoulders and they were rocking together in a frantic whirlwind of passion.

 

Sharp jabs of pleasure jolted through her system each time he moved and she knew she was out of control but didn't care. Finally she reached a peak of satisfaction and pulled him tight against her body, rocking desperately. It wasn't seconds before he joined her, crying out her name and some other broken words that she missed. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. Had he said he loved her? No, she must have heard him wrong. Because one thing was certain, this was not love. Surely he had just called her luv, like he did all the time, and she had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

 

He lay on top of her, breathing in time with her, and she allowed her hands to stroke his back. Petting him, soothing him. He trembled slightly, his emotions so powerful they overwhelmed her with peaks and valleys, so chaotic she couldn’t even separate one from the next to know what he was feeling. She just knew it was intoxicating and visceral and intimate. She loved the way his muscles played under her hands as he lowered himself to the side, how her touch connected her to the physicalness of him. Spike was very physical. He wielded words like weapons but his true language, how he touched the world, was movement. When she laid her hands on him she felt like she was bypassing the translator and speaking to the heart of him.

 

Powerful stuff, this bond. But it was not love. Love was sweet and true and clean. This was nothing like love. This was chaos. It didn’t matter, she shouldn’t even be thinking words like love in connection with Spike. He sure wasn’t. She had been imagining things, she had.

 

He ran one firm hand from her shoulder to her hip in a soft caress. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing." She replied, just a little too quickly. He frowned and opened his mouth to say more when his head snapped to the side. He stared at the door intently for a split second before he grabbed the sheet and covered her nakedness. Before she could ask what it was, there was a soft knock and Angel opened the door. For a moment she felt relief that he hadn't opened the door just a few minutes earlier, than realized with horror that he had probably waited for them to finish.

 

An immediate change came over Spike. Gone was the postcoital Spike that was all soft touches and boneless satisfaction. In his place was the cockiest version of himself she had ever seen. Spike stretched like a cat before reaching for his cigarettes on her bedside table. "Angel, Peaches, come to join us?" It was only his severe injuries, and her very real nakedness that kept her from leaping up and kicking him right then. She wasn't, however, able to control her bright pink blush.

 

"I came to tell you that I wasn't able to find any trace of Drusilla, I don't believe that she's in Sunnydale any longer." His voice was clipped and tight, and he was looking at Spike instead of her. Buffy felt she might just curl up and die of shame. She shifted away just a little bit, and Spike firmed his grasp on her, shouting his claim with his touch.

 

"Come now, Peaches, shut the door and come on to bed." His voice was drawn out in a sexy purr. It came to her that Spike got arrogant and cocky whenever he felt threatened. At first he was that way with her, then Giles, then Faith, and now Angel.

 

"Spike, that's enough! You're high as a kite and you are upsetting Buffy." Angel stood stiff as a board, hands fisted tightly at his sides. There was a small tick in his cheek that she had often seen when he was in the presence of Spike. Buffy wanted to get out of bed, but felt trapped by her nakedness and pinned to the bed by the weight of tension in the room.

 

Spike sat up suddenly, almost taking her sheet with him. She had to grasp for it and pulled it tightly up to her neck, which pulled it low on Spike's hips. Involuntarily her eyes were drawn to Angel and she noticed his pants were a little tight across the front too. Oh God, he was hard! Buffy buried her face in her hands and shook. This was not happening.

 

"Don't pull that Sire bullshit with me, Angelus, it's too late for that. You didn't come to tell about Dru, that could have waited till we were downstairs. We all know why you're really here, don't we, luv?"

 

"I thought that Drusilla Sired you? But you guys keep acting like…What?" Both of their eyes had zoomed in on her and suddenly, despite all her Slayerness, she felt small and helpless. “Uhhh, Never mind?"

 

"Why would she think that?" Angel's voice could have melted aluminum.

 

"Well, because all the Watcher's books say so…" She really needed to keep her mouth shut. Spike gave an involuntary wince before he smirked up at Angel.

 

"You disowned me first." Spike said easily, leaning back against the pillows nonchalantly, but she could feel his apprehension through the bond. Apparently it was justified, because Angel sprang across the room and loomed over them menacingly, in full game face.

 

"You told people she Sired you?" Angel's voice was a soft deadly caress, he balanced on the balls of his feet, and Buffy suddenly wondered if she was going to have to defend her mate stark naked.

 

"I didn't deny it." Spike spoke without a trace of his usual mockery. Completely serious, he met Angel's eyes without fear. "Are you coming to bed, Peaches, or not?"

 

Angel stood there for a long moment; game face melted away, frown firmly on his handsome features. Was he actually considering Spike's invitation? If he made one step towards that bed she would kill them both and be done with Vampires forever.

 

"You're high,” Angel said finally. “In the morning you'd stake me." And with that parting statement he was gone. Buffy knew that she was gaping like a fish; mouth hung open, wide staring eyes. But she needed a moment to process the last ten minutes.

 

Unable to contemplate the idea that her former lover and greatest love had seriously considered getting into bed with her Spike. Or the fact that Spike had known that he would want to. Buffy latched onto the safest item for discussion.

 

"You let me believe that she was your Sire so I would let you bite me on the hellmouth." She accused. Spike actually sighed before getting out of bed and digging through his bag for a pair of pants. Like he didn’t want to discuss it, like it was no big deal.

 

"We were the same blood, I took a gamble, and it worked." Buffy sputtered, the gall.

 

"You just wanted my blood!"

 

"Did I kill you? No, and I could have. You'd have died happy, too. If it didn't work, you were dead anyway. I don't even think Dru has any surviving Childer, she has a tendency to abandon them or kill them." He pulled on his pants, wincing at their tightness and zipped the fly, leaving the button undone. She had a strong desire to snap it for him, and to hit him upside the head.

 

"You could have told me!" She shrieked. She knew this wasn't the only reason she was mad but rather this than the other.

 

"Why, because we were so close then? Mortal enemies ring a bell?"

 

"If we were such mortal enemies, why didn't you kill me? Huh, answer me that." Buffy climbed out of bed and went to her dresser to find herself some clothes. She felt his body tighten with desire at the sight of her nakedness but didn't stop, pulling on the first pair of panties that she touched.

 

"We were under truce." She fumbled with a flimsy bra, finally getting it clasped and slipping the straps over her shoulders.

 

"And you are so honorable?" Buffy started violently when she felt his hands at her waist.

 

"Relax, Slayer; I knew he would say no." Buffy wretched away from him and spun. She wanted to smack his face but he was already hurt so badly. His eyes drifted to her heaving chest for a moment before he became aware of it and snapped his gaze back up to her eyes. "I was just baiting him and you got in the middle, I'm sorry." Spike had just apologized to her. She half expected the windows to frost and snow to fall. After all, hell must have just frozen over. And it took the wind right out of her sails.

 

"He didn't look like he wanted to say no to me." She muttered, looking down. She reached out and snapped his button, wondering absently if he had left it undone just so she would snap it.

 

"Of course he didn't want to say no," He pulled her close to him and she buried her face in his shoulder. "But, soul and all, can't risk it. Why would anybody want to say no to us?"

 

"You're insufferable." She muttered.

 

"I know." He replied

 

"And if he had wanted to come to bed with us?" She looked up at him sharply and he smiled.

 

"No one makes you do anything you don't want to."

 

* * *

 

 

Buffy followed Spike down the stairs, fully sated after their quick romp and finally properly dressed. She felt all funny in her head, trying to concentrate on Glory and how to defeat her because so many other things were too crazy to think about. Spike being completely and totally high added a whole other dimension to her scattered thoughts. She felt reckless and edgy and knew that most of that was coming from him, so she tried to ignore it. Her friends and family were scattered around the living room, watching television. One of those British films that Xander thought was so funny. She paused suddenly, wondering exactly what they had all heard. Based on the awkward smiles and shuffling feet, far more than she would have wanted. Spike brushed past them all and went outside.

 

Angel stood and walked to her. "Are you alright Buffy? Things between Spike and I get a little crazy sometimes." Buffy found it hard to meet his eyes but forced herself. He had wanted to, his soul and thought of mayhem in the morning was all that had kept him from it. She wasn't too sure how she felt about that. She wanted to know if they’d done that before, the two of them. With Dru or Darla or someone else. She wanted to know, but at the same time couldn’t ask because then he might answer and then she would know.

 

"Yeah, Spike, uhm, apologized."

 

His eyes widened in surprise but then he narrowed his eyes over her shoulder. "What is he doing to my car?"

 

Buffy turned to look out the window; Spike had his knife out and was fiddling with the latch on Angel's trunk. With a faint pop it opened and he began to rummage around inside. Cordelia surged to her feet, squealing something about her stuff and barreled out the door. Distracted from the television, the whole room watched as Cordelia ran out and began to whack Spike in his arm while he ignored her and continued to look through the contents of the trunk. After a moment he began to throw things behind him and Cordelia shrieked like a madwoman. Suddenly Spike held up what looked like a bottle of alcohol and slammed the trunk closed, leaving Cordelia's pink frilly suitcases all over the driveway. Buffy almost felt sorry for her, almost.

 

He sauntered back in, leaving Cordelia squawking furiously for him to come clean up his mess and smirked at Angel, holding up a bottle of Irish whiskey. What was it with Vampires keeping liquor in trunks? "Celebrate?"

 

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and gave Spike a tight smile. "And what are we celebrating?"

 

"My lovely mate?" Angel let out a low growl and Spike took a quick step back out of range. "Or maybe the return of your surly soul?"

 

Faith had sidled up next to Buffy at some point and asked softly. "Now that you're done with Angel…" Buffy sounded a lot like a Vampire when she growled and Faith found it funny because she laughed, low and sexy. “Relax, B, I was kidding.”

 

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I have to be going if I'm going to make it back to LA before dawn." He turned to her and gave a soft smile. "Spike mentioned something about me taking your family with me. I could put them up at the hotel, have Cordy cast a protection spell."

Buffy fidgeted while Dawn and her mother both protested loudly. She looked at Willow and Giles who were both silent, and Xander, who was also protesting anybody being left in the care of Angel. This was really up to her. She looked at Spike; a human would never have survived that kind of torture. Much less live to stand in her living room, all insolent grace, and chugging strait from a bottle of whiskey.

 

"Yeah, I think that is best." She finally answered and turned to her mother to explain why it was necessary. And that she would try to make their stint in LA as short as possible.

 

After much arguing and packing and screaming on Dawn’s part, she finally stood in the driveway and watched Angel drive away with her family in tow. She couldn't help feeling like she was abandoning them. But Angel was capable of protecting them, and she and Spike had a battle to fight. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze despite the others watching and they went into the house together.

 


	22. Our United Front

**Our United Front**

  
"I can't believe you sent them off with Deadboy!" Xander was worked up in that extra extreme way that only Angel brought out in him. Buffy loved her friend, but things were very black and white for him. Vampire equalled badness. And she couldn’t really dispute that viewpoint, even if he was overreacting.   
  
"Xander, I hardly think that a few days in Dawn's pleasant company will give Angel a moment of perfect happiness. I'm sure his soul will remain properly miserable until this whole Glory thing is over." Buffy and the gang sat sprawled around the kitchen table. It was time to get down to business. They had one Hell God to destroy and Buffy wanted it done and over with as soon as possible. She needed to get her family back home. She needed to go back to school and study hard. And she really needed to sort out what was going on between her and one bleached menace.   
  
"She had to give him something to do, so he didn't get all broody when Buffy tossed him out on his ear for her current Vamp of the week." Buffy was up and halfway across the room to break Faith's face before she regained control of herself. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, took several deep, calming breaths, turned, and walked back to her seat with as much dignity as she could manage. Spike’s little drug trip had her very on edge, but it didn’t matter. Just because she was the Slayer didn't give her the right to go around clawing people's eyes out. Even when they deserved it. She shot Faith a look of deepest loathing, and then blushed, wondering if anyone would guess that she had borrowed the look from Spike.   
  
"If we can get to business, please, I'd like to have my family returned to me as soon as possible." Buffy placed her hands primly in her lap and turned to Giles. "What have you learned about my bond with Spike? I still don't understand how it helps us. The woman has kicked both our sorry butts."   
  
"That bint did not kick my butt!" Spike exclaimed, jumping to his feet again. Apparently drugs made him jumpy. Come to think of it, he was always pretty animated. He began to pace around the small space of the kitchen and Buffy bit back the desire to snap at him to sit down. "She had help; if she'd been alone I could have taken her."   
  
Even injured, he walked with a sexy roll to those hips. All fluid grace and gangster strut. She'd tried to tell him he shouldn't put so much weight on that knee, but he had waved her off, saying it was half healed already. He was so stubborn.   
  
"I can't wait till we find her. I'm gonna rip her soddin’ head off. I'm going to bash her bloody teeth in. I'm gonna…"   
  
"Enough Spike, what we need is information." He turned and gave her his trademark smirk. He looked her from head to toe in a slow, purely indecent way, and then took out his cigarettes. Faith stretched her hands over her head in a feline move bursting with sexuality. Spike didn't seem to notice, and Buffy felt a strong burst of affection for him. He looked at her inquisitively, his head tilted to one side, eyes staring right into her soul. She blushed and looked away.   
  
"I think we all ought to mount up, go in there guns blazing, and just slay her." Faith was now twisting in her chair in a slow, sexy way. Buffy honestly didn’t know if she was trying to be sensual or if her restlessness was just manifesting as constant movement. Spike was looking at her, but he didn't seem to notice her twisting about. Her voice dropped to a slower, sultrier pitch. "I mean, really, me and B could take her. Plus we got her pet Vamp there. Tonight's as good as any other night. Take her by surprise."   
  
"Summers," Spike said, with a false air of serenity and a lecherous snide twist of his lips. "She's really just taking up space here and annoying you, can I just eat her?"    
  
Argument broke out all over the kitchen. Faith jumped up in outrage. Xander about tripped over himself jumping up to defend her. Anya was banging her fist into Xander's arm in a fit of jealousy. Willow and Giles were both trying to restore peace. Spike was right in the thick of it, of course. Buffy took deep calming breaths. Buffy counted slowly to ten. Buffy jumped up and screamed at everyone to, "Shut up!"   
  
"You!" She pointed at Xander, "are going to stay out of it, sit down!" Xander plopped into the nearest chair, eyes goggled. "You!" She directed her Ms. Pointy finger at Anya, "are going to sit by him and make sure he behaves." Anya's triumphant look made Buffy want to yell at her some more, but there were juicier targets begging for attention.   
  
Her finger homed in on Faith. "You are going to quit antagonizing Spike. I don't have the time or the patience to babysit. One more comment about him being my pet and I'll let him eat you." She spun around to face Spike, the catalyst. Standing there, completely relaxed, with such a smug look. Like the cat who ate the canary. "Quit being so smug!" She snapped. He grinned at her. "Remember you are a guest here, and don't threaten my friends."   
  
"Oh come on, pet, was just a bit of sport. I bet the bint tastes like motor oil anyway. ‘Sides she's the one can't keep her soddin’ gob shut." Faith sputtered in the background and Buffy held up one hand to forestall anything she might have to say.   
  
"Spike! Now is not the time for this. I want Glory dead, and sitting around arguing like toddlers is not going to make it happen."   
  
"You're no fun." He groused. He finally got around to lighting the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Buffy found herself momentarily hypnotized by his hands as he casually lifted his silver lighter, flipped the latch, lit his smoke, and tucked the piece back into his skin tight jeans. He felt her relax and gave her a small, sexy smile, eyes going to her mouth with an almost hungry look. "All right then, on with the meeting. Gods to kill, bunnies to rescue, heroic things need doing."   
  
Buffy flopped back in her chair with a sigh. Spike moved closer to her, almost instinctively, but didn't touch her. He was breathing in time with her again. She liked that he got so in tune with her that he mirrored her breaths without realizing it.   
  
"You gotta give me something to do. There's no way I'm going to just sit here, waiting! Don't you need anyone dead? Or maimed? I can settle for maimed." Faith snarked, also collapsing back into her chair, losing interest in goading Spike.   
  
Buffy ignored her. "Giles, Willow, please tell me you know something useful?"   
  
"Not as much as we would like to know, Buffy. There really isn't a lot of information on Glory in our texts." Giles paused and gave her a kind look. "We believe that she is trapped in this dimension by accident. The key is an interdimensional portal; she could use it to travel to her own hell dimension. The problem is that we would all be sucked in with her. There are only certain times of the year that Glory will be powerful enough to activate the key. This phase of the moons is when she is most powerful, in about two weeks her power will begin to wane and we might have a chance at defeating her. If we can keep the key out of her hands until then…"   
  
"Chit's not gonna come calling for tea when she's under power, Rupes. She's gonna drop out of sight until the next time she comes into her own." Spike interrupted.   
  
"I was going to suggest, Spike, that we locate and watch her. She'll be frantic to find the key, it will be a year before we hit this equinox again, and she'll be distracted. We can watch her and attack the second she turns tail to run." Buffy nodded. It made sense. But there was a lot of room for error, and two weeks was a long time for her family to be gone. She met Spike's eyes for a heartbeat and found comfort there.   
  
"What about the mating bond? Have you found any relevant information about how that's supposed to help us?" Really, it made no sense. The bond affected no one except for them. How on earth was it supposed to help defeat a Hell God?   
  
"I'm sorry, Buffy. It's very clear that the bond is necessary to success in defeating this evil, but the texts give no indication as to the how or the why of it. My guess would be that the bond ensures that Spike is on our side, without it he certainly would not be sitting in on this meeting, much less…"   
  
Buffy found herself distracted by Faith again. She was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed daintily and looking up at Spike from under her lashes. Buffy was so not imagining it. She was flirting with him! And he was completely ignoring her. Too completely not to know exactly what she was doing. One thing about Spike was that he was always aware of his surroundings. It unnerved her sometimes. She watched him smoke for several seconds, taking in his relaxed pose, before mentally slapping herself and returning to the conversation at hand. Giles was rambling on about obscure passages and gesturing seriously. Willow was hanging on his every word. Ayna was groping Xander under the table; she couldn't see anything but he was wearing that now familiar glazed look in his eye. Then again, it could have been Faith that caused his zoning out.   
  
Spike pulled himself up onto the island and examined his nails. He wore the look of supreme boredom convincingly. Giles occasionally shot him irritated looks, which would soon be followed by a disapproving scowl from Willow, but Buffy knew him too well. Spike was an observer of people. He watched all the time, and she had an advantage. His mind was drawn tight as a bowstring. She had no doubt that he was mentally filing every word that fell from Giles' lips. He noticed her noticing and ran his tongue over his teeth in a decidedly suggestive way. Really, he had no discretion to speak of. Buffy tossed her hair and rolled her eyes, turning back to Giles. She crossed her legs demurely, deliberately letting her skirt ride up her thighs. Spike's sexual awareness shot through the roof. He was so easy.   
  
"So the great plan is to sit on our duffs and do nothing? Slayer, let’s go kill things." Spike growled. To the casual observer, Spike was beginning to get impatient with the conversation and his boredom was getting to him. Buffy knew damn good and well he wanted to get her alone. Giles directed a very dirty look at Spike for interrupting and began to talk again. Buffy frowned. Even if she was trying to follow him what good did it do her to know about seven equinoxes? She just needed to kill Glory. And she definitely was not in with the wait two weeks and wait for her to run plan.   
  
"Giles," She interrupted, deliberately spinning a curl around her forefinger. She could tell by Faith's murderous glare that Spike's hot gaze was on her. "We need to come up with something more in the now to do about Glory. I hate to admit it, but Faith is right. There are three warriors in this room. I was thinking that she needs to be found and ambushed. Maybe we should hit that warehouse, see if she’s still in there."   
  
"Rupes, does all your blathering contain any timeline on when we defeat the little woman?" Spike pushed himself off the counter and sauntered back into her personal space. Buffy's skin broke out in a rash of goosebumps. He didn't touch her, but he was close enough to touch her, she wanted him to touch her. Maybe they should nix the chatter and go kill things. Could everyone read it on her face, her rampant lust for a vampire? Her Vampire. When this was all over, she was going to have her own padded room at the local metal institution. Not surprisingly, Sunnydale had a rather large, well funded center.   
  
"No one wants to hear your opinion. No one cares what you have to say." Xander said vehemently. Spike growled affectionately at him and everyone at the table stiffened again. Buffy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Spike, of course, was completely horrified by the affection factor. Poor baby. He brushed his fingers under her hair across the nape of her neck and Buffy lost her train of thought.   
  
"There is no timeline as to her weaknesses.  Also, how the key is directly involved is not at all apparent. Only that the key must be protected. Now, if we could get back to my research…In about nine days, we will be past the peak of…." Blah, blah, blah…Buffy felt restless and tired at the same time. Did that make any sense?   
  
"Giles, I'm sorry, but it's late. Do you want to stay in the guest room? Willow can have mom's room, and Xander and Anya can have Dawn’s room. Faith, do you mind crashing on the couch again?"   
  
"What? The whole Brady Bunch is staying here? What are you doing, stocking snacks for your lover?" Faith groused, her face now drawn into an angry, petulant pout. Spike's good humor evaporated instantly. Every muscle in his body tightened and he rolled onto the balls of his feet, his whole body vibrating with pre-fight tension. To the rest of the room, he looked cocky and restless, bouncing around like a three-year-old. She knew different now, he was ready to spring across the room and do some serious damage.   
  
She reached out one slender hand and laid it on Spike's taut forearm. He literally trembled under her fingers, but he held himself in check. She found herself impressed with his restraint. He was still high as a kite, but still he managed to reign in his murderous impulses. The power he had leashed and bound, ready to spring loose at her bidding, gave her the low down tinglies and she pressed her thighs together discreetly.   
  
"Buffy, don't you think it's a bit impractical for us all to stay here? Glory certainly wouldn't see a reason to target any of us." Giles began before Spike interrupted again, and Buffy had a horrified moment of clarity. She was no longer feeling extreme irritation, she felt exasperated fondness. Oh, she had it so bad.   
  
"Rupes, anyone with a brain would go after the Slayer's family and friends. It's no secret on the hellmouth that she's fiercely loyal and protective. Nothing would stop Summers from going after you people, which is why for the most part, the lot of you walk about unmolested."   
  
"Unmolested! I seem to remember being kidnapped by a certain bleached Vampire and…"   
  
"Please, not all of us fear the Slayer, just most. And you're still around to annoy the populace. Quit being such a nancy boy."   
  
"If you call me Rupes again…"   
  
"I can't stay here tonight…"   
  
"B's been too soft, let's go outside and I'll teach you fear."   
  
"Baby, I am the Slayer of Slayers. Fear is my game, little girl."   
  
God, why did she even try to keep the peace? Her mom was out of town. She ought to just pour baby oil in the floor and let them have at it. Buffy let the arguing flow over her head and softly banged her head into the top of the table. The sound of confrontation escalated into outraged shrieks and shouting. Buffy rolled her forehead on the cold comforting surface and thought calming thoughts.   
  
When she stood up she had to let out a piercing whistle to get everyone's attention. "You're all staying here. I can't protect you all if you're all spread out."   
  
"Buffy, you really can't expect us to rearrange our lives based on some delusional paranoia from a bleached killer." Giles began, giving Spike a look of purest loathing but Buffy interrupted. The pressure of this whole thing bearing down on her.   
  
"I wouldn't dream of making you rearrange your life in any way to make it easier for me. I mean, I only gave up any chance of any normalness to risk my life every night for a bunch of ungrateful…"   
  
"Oh all right, we'll stay," Anya interrupted. "So long as you realize that there will be no cessation of orgasms despite staying in your sister's virginal room."   
  
It was going to be a long night. Please, please let this Glory woman fall off a cliff. "Spike and I are going to go scope out that warehouse." She announced without fanfare and breezed out of the room without looking back. She had no doubt that he would be at her heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kbeautimous for cleaning up this chapter!


	23. Love's Bitch

**Love’s Bitch**

 

Spike watched Buffy's hips swing seductively while she strutted ahead of him. She was still fuming mad about all the drama at her place. It probably wasn't all that wise to be out here trolling for trouble. He hated to admit it, but he wasn't on top of his game. He may not be able to feel a thing right now, but any tussle he got into tonight he was going to pay for eventually, in heaps of pain. Her golden locks bounced around her waist, just brushing her hips. Did she really want to scope the warehouse? Or was this just an elaborate excuse to get him alone?

 

After a second of contemplation he decided it didn't matter. He had to have his hands on those hips. He sped up enough to snag her waist and smiled wickedly when she gave out a little peep of surprise. He leaned into her and breathed in her scent. Who needed sunshine? He had Buffy.

 

His hands tightened convulsively on her waist and he shuddered violently. This was all temporary, when this Glory person was defeated; his girl would be lost to him. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and pulled her body flush with his. She would never tolerate a Vampire around her, allow him to touch her, if it wasn't for this bond. But he found it harder and harder to convince himself that he only craved her because she was his mate. Even he wasn't blind enough to think that he would want her any less when he was free of her.

 

He found himself hoping, deep in his heart of hearts, where his deepest desires and a love of poetry lurked, that they wouldn't find a way to break his hold on her. That this bond would be permanent the way it was meant to be. At first it had seemed unnatural to him, but now not being at her side seemed unthinkable. So he had to bag it and play white hat. He let his hands roam down to her thighs, nibbling at her neck. He was domesticated and couldn't find a bone in his body that cared.

 

His Slayer leaned into him, tilting her head to give him access to her sweetness, covering his hands with her small, delicate ones. She rolled her hips back into his groin and Spike groaned out loud. The vampire lifted his head and inventoried their surroundings. The park, wisely abandoned at this time of night. He began to walk her that direction, amply distracted by her wiggling bum and intoxicating scent. Unfortunately, she wasn't as distracted as he had hoped. 

 

"Spike, we can't, we need to get to that warehouse, do a little recon." She whispered, twisting in his grasp to free herself.

 

"Buffy," he whispered back, a note of pleading in his tone, as he tried to get his hands back on her. Christ, she was fast. "I need you, luv, need you so much." He continued to pursue her, herding her in the direction he needed her to go. Swings? Too flimsy. Teeter-totter? Too unstable. Merry-go-round? Might be fun, but he wanted her on his lap, straddling his thighs, her head thrown back. His eye landed on the giant slide in the corner of the park. There was a dome over the landing to shield his girl from any eyes but his and plenty of back support. He lunged for her and she squealed like a little girl and sprinted off, in the direction of the park. 

 

Baby wanted to play.

 

She leapt onto the merry-go-round and Spike was momentarily distracted by naughty fantasies before springing up after her. The momentum of his leap started the thing spinning and after a second, Spike swung himself off to run in a quick circle, as fast as his Vampire strength could push him. Buffy grabbed onto two bars to keep from flying off the edge and Spike used her momentary pause in motion to capture her. Slightly off balance, he crashed hard on his back in the middle of the spinning plate, his Slayer landing hard on top of him. Good thing he didn't have any breath to lose. She let out a girlish laugh and kissed him full on the mouth. All thoughts of how much he was going to hurt later fled his mind, and the world slimmed down to just one slight girl lying across his body.

 

Another kiss, freely given. He could admit it, if only to himself, he was her slave. There was nothing on this planet he wouldn't give her. His blood, his love, his dust. Whatever this goddess required was hers. He'd slaughter a thousand demons, travel to the ends of the earth by her side, give up immortality in a heartbeat if he could just go on kissing her like this. Fuck, she tasted so bloody good. And he needed more; he needed to drown in her completely. He needed to be surrounded by her body. Have her completely open to him. His hands, his mouth. Right now, she was his. And no one was going to take her from him.

 

With a low, possessive growl, he twisted his body so that he had her underneath him. She parted her legs for him and he slipped one thigh between hers, rubbing up against her. She let out a soft little sound and bucked against him, arching her slender back. Bloody hell, she was perfection. "Spike, we can't, anyone could see us."

 

"So, let them watch." He growled and burrowed his heads between her breasts, wrapping his fingers in hers and holding her hands down. She mewled like a kitten and squeezed his hands with bruising strength. His demon pleaded to be let out, but he held it in check and nipped her breast to pacify it.

 

"Spike, we're in a park, there could be children." She began to struggle in earnest and Spike tightened his grip on her to hold her to him. He leapt to his feet and swung her into his arms. Buffy squeaked out her surprise and threw her arms around his neck. He was stopped, awed for a moment by her complete trust, before he took off full speed across the park and ran right up the steep slide. He collapsed on his bum, his wiggling girl in his lap, and declared this part of the park safe from prying eyes.

 

Like a naughty fantasy playing out in real time, his Slayer twisted her body so she could straddle his lap. He let out a low, deep groan and thrust his pelvis up against her. He was like a randy schoolboy whenever she was within touching distance. She smiled in feminine pride. She delighted in her power over him and he was so far lost in her that he didn't care that she knew he was her slave. 

 

He attacked the small, delicate buttons on her shirt with single minded determination. He had to have her soft body against his. It was a little awkward, twisting and moaning. Buffy lifted up on her knees so he could slide her jeans over her hips and he returned the favor. Hot, questing little hands all over him, soft, wet kisses that turned him inside out.

 

The borrowed blood in his body hummed, and the sound of his girl's heartbeat thrummed through him like a pulse. Buffy lifted up and pushed him inside her body. Her name was torn from his lips and he found himself babbling about how good she felt. Telling her he loved her, needed her. She was panting his name, digging her nails deep into his skin, grinding her teeth into his shoulder. Gods, this was heaven. She bit him particularly hard and his demon escaped what little hold he had on it. His girl didn't even blink, she didn't even hesitate. She tilted her sweet neck and offered herself to him.

 

She was perfect. He bit her gently and almost came immediately when her hot, ripe blood flooded his mouth. He took small measured sips in time with his thrusts. His Slayer cried out with every movement, squirming with pleasure. She was so hot and tight around him, rocking with him, such sweet friction. Her blood made his head spin, made him high on her power. She fluttered around him and then tightened with orgasm, spasm after spasm squeezing him tightly. 

 

He gripped her tighter and sucked harder on her neck. She shook uncontrollably and sobbed his name over and over. When he could stand the pleasure no more he withdrew his fangs and let the demon go. He kissed her hard, staining her mouth with blood. She kissed him back without reserve. Sod it all, he loved this girl. He finally let himself go, thrusting into her warmth with abandon, chanting her name like a prayer. Spike came deep inside her, spurt after spurt of pleasure washing over him. He was never letting her go.

 

"Oh, God, we've contaminated the park. That is soooo sick. Kids can no longer play here because of lustful vampires." He chuckled softly, amused by her horror. It was a little late for her conscience to make an appearance.

 

"Relax, Slayer, we aren't the only ones to rendezvous here, I can smell that Xander boy and his bird all over the place, recent, too.”

 

"Eeewwww!" She shrieked a look of utter disgust on her pretty features. She tried to leap to her feet, but got tangled in the jeans still around her ankles and crashed back into him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, carefully cleaning away all traces of blood from her mouth before that freaked her out, too. Then he bent his head and carefully sealed her bite mark with his own blood so it would heal quickly. She shuddered against him when he licked his mating mark, and he was almost tempted to keep on with the necking. But the wind had picked up, and it smelled like rain. Not that his Slayer wouldn't look delicious soaked to the skin, wet hair clinging to the both of them, lips cold as his against his skin. But she didn't need to be sick on top of everything else.

 

"Sweetheart, it's going to rain." She made a non-committal sound and pulled his earlobe into her hot mouth, sucking and biting. He groaned out loud, whimpering like a child. She was irresistible and insatiable. She was even putting his vampire libido to the test. "Let's take this inside, hmmm?"

 

She pulled back from him a bit, shifting to get comfortable and laid her head on his shoulder. His grip tightened reflexively and he rubbed slow soothing circles on her back. "I really don't have time for this." She murmured without making any effort to move away from him. Her hand went to the bite mark on her neck, frowning slightly. He tensed, waiting for her anger and disgust. She would get mad at him for taking advantage of her when she was lost in passion. But he felt no flare of anger through the bond. 

 

"Big hickey." She groused, and Spike bit his tongue to keep from apologizing. Already done that one too many times tonight. And he wasn't about to apologize for amazing, mind blowing, bloodletting sex. If he could get her in the mood, he'd do it again.

 

"Do you think they're all right?" She asked softly and Spike winced at the worry in her tone. He wished he could do more to alleviate her fears, but she was right to fear. Glory was very powerful, and bent on destroying that sweet little girl, and anyone who got in her way. Spike wondered absently how much of his affection for his Slayer's family was his own, and how much was channeled from their bond. He'd liked them before he'd ever been linked with Buffy, had in fact spared their lives when he had full access to the Summers home.

 

"I'll know if Peaches dusts." She clutched him closer and Spike cursed himself. He never said the right thing. Best if he stayed silent, because there really wasn't too much he could say. "We'll find her, we'll kill her, and it'll be over."

 

"Until the next apocalypse."

 

"You'll keep them safe, safe as houses. You always do."

 

All of the sudden, they were plunged head first into ice water. At least, that's what it felt like. In over a hundred years of being a Vampire, he'd never been summoned, but he knew without being told what this was. He was on his feet, pulling on Buffy's clothes on roughly and dressing himself before she could even form a question. He didn't let her waste her breath, she would need it to run.

 

"It's Angelus, he's summoned the line."

 

"The line?" She gasped out even as he shoved her ungracefully down the slide. He joined her on the ground, leaping over the side and staggering a bit when he landed on that twice damned knee of his. He didn’t stop to check it, grabbing her hand and hauling her behind him like a sack of potatoes.

 

"Angelus is the elder of Aurelius, what with the master dust and Darla, too, he's summoned us all." It was as though there was a wire drawn tight between Spike and his Sire. It felt as though it was pulling the top of his head clear off because he was going in the wrong direction. He couldn't even spare the thought to be curious about why Buffy felt it, too. She was his mate, did that make her Aurelius by marriage?

 

"All of you, how many is that?" How she managed to have breath enough to speak while running side by side with him at a breakneck pace, he didn't know.

 

"Dunno, we're pretty choosy about who we let in. I've never sired anyone." He thought for a moment. "There's Dru, I don't think she has any living Childe, and two more that Angelus Sired. I think that's all."

 

Spike skidded to a stop in front of Buffy's house and darted for his car. "I'll get the others!" Buffy called and he growled angrily, snatching at her arm to haul her into the car. She evaded his attempt however and ran for the door. "I can't leave them unprotected."

 

It was a tight fit, but Spike managed to shove everyone into Buffy's mother's Blazer and get all the doors shut. All of them were yammering and squealing and demanding answers. Spike was having a tough time controlling his demon and finally let it come to the fore as he backed out and peeled down the road. This startled the other Slayer, the seductress, to complaining. Bloody hell, he was going to rip her sodding head off. Buffy sensed his frustration, or was venting her own, it didn't really matter which, and started shouting for order. It was a very long time before she found any.

 

"I still don't understand why we are listening to anything this bloodsucker has to say. This could be a trap. He could be driving us all to our doom. I can't believe…" The whelp never knew when to shut it.

 

"Buffy, please be a little more clear about what happened. How could you possibly know that Angel is in trouble?"

 

"I don't know, he did some sort of summony thingy. And now I can tell exactly where he is, and that he's pretty wounded."

 

"So we're running off at the summons of a Vampire! Will you never learn! They're Vampires Buffy. Evil, bloodsucking fiends…."

 

"Enough! Use your head, you soddin’ idiot!" Spike jerked the wheel hard to get Xander’s attention. He got knocked upside the head by his Slayer for his trouble. "Angelus has never summoned the line, and he's been eldest for several years now. Two reasons I can figure he would now. A, he's given his soul the slip again and wants us there to celebrate with him. Or B, he's been attacked and needs help. Either way, Buffy's family is in trouble." Dawning comprehension! It was like the surf crashing over the shore, the boy's expression. Why did his girl have such dolts for friends? Couldn't fault the boy's loyalty, though.

 

Thirty minutes later found them all piling out of the Blazer onto the side of the highway. Peaches car was beyond repair, smashed in on the side. The man himself lay in the cheerleaders lap, both knees smashed in, face swollen, arm hanging limply at his side. Joyce, who had previously been kneeling next to the Vampire, trying to figure out how to help, launched herself into Buffy's arms. "She's gone Buffy, they've taken her." She sobbed.

 

"We'll get her back, mom." Buffy met his eyes over her mother's shoulder, and Spike knew she wasn't near as confident as she sounded. "Which way did they go?"

 

"They were headed back to Sunnydale." 

 

Spike was trying to sort how to get his Sire home and Buffy's crew home and find the Bit when Drusilla and two young fledglings arrived in a beat up conversion van. To say that Buffy's little lackeys were unhappy about traveling with a van full of bloodsuckers would be a little bit of an understatement. But they wouldn't all fit in the Blazer, and judging by Dru's indignant shrieks he was the one who stood the most chance of being dusted.

 

She got even hotter under the collar when he had to backhand one of her boys for making a comment about all the fresh blood, and his Slayer wasn't too happy either when he ended up in one vehicle with Dru and she was in another with her mum. She was tossing her hair around in a huff when her Watcher spied the fresh bite mark, needless to say that didn't go over well. He might just stake himself and save himself the torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to kbeautimous for her lovely edit job. All the love :)


	24. Breaking Point

**Breaking Point**

 

Buffy was a jumbled mess of nerves. Spike should have been here beside her, with his soothing feelings and reassuring presence. Instead, he was in the other vehicle catering to his girlfriend. His Vampire lover, whom he had adored for over a hundred years. Buffy’s sister was missing and she needed him, damn it! The worst part of it was that she knew, deep down, that she was being irrational, but she couldn't help herself. Who else was going to sit in a van full of Vampires? It was either her or him, and the fact was, she needed to sit with her mom, who was wringing her hands and trying valiantly to keep her composure.

 

"Maybe we should call the police." Her mother said after several miles of heavy silence. No one answered her. Her mom knew why they couldn't call the police. That conversation would go over like a ton of bricks: ‘Hello, Officer, my daughter has been kidnapped by a Hell God; she's about five-foot-four with superpowers and a frizzy perm. Oh, how do we know who kidnapped her? Because her Vampire guardian was with her and got his ass kicked. We think she might be a mystical key who is really thousands of years old and this Glory God person wants to cut her open and use her blood in an ancient ritual. How do you think we should go about finding her? A white jacket you say? You think she might be hiding in this nice padded room?’ Blea! But her mom needed to say something and she could understand that.

 

Buffy chewed on her lip. Spike should be able to track her, if he could find her scent. Just like Angel found him. Couldn't he? But they had to know where to begin looking. "Giles, do we know anything about where this ritual might take place?"

 

"I'd like to find her before it comes even close to that Buffy." Her Watcher replied with his usual calm in the face of adversity. She found herself grateful for his steadfast presence, even if she did miss Spike terribly.

 

"I'd like to know where to start looking."

 

"The nicer hotels.” Cordelia answered unexpectedly. “I mean, really, she's gotta have somewhere to sleep and plan. She's been on this planet for a matter of weeks and she’s already decked herself in Versace. The girl has taste. Those shoes must have cost a fortune."

 

"I doubt she paid for them, Cordelia! What do her shoes have to do with my missing sister?" Buffy really was not in the mood for Cordelia's nattering. She didn't know why Angel thought she had changed so much, she still seemed like the same shallow stuck up girl she'd been in high school. With shorter hair.

 

"It's very simple, Buffy." The beauty queen spoke very slowly as if to make sure that Buffy understood her. "This Glory woman needs a new hairdresser, but that doesn't change the fact that she has undeniably refined tastes. She won't be huddling in the sewers and she won't be slumming in some dump. She's new in town, so I doubt she has an open invitation to anywhere decent. So, naturally, you should check out the higher class hotels. Nothing below four stars, obviously."

 

Buffy really hated Cordelia's overbearing attitude. She thought she knew everything, except math or science…she had never pretended to be book smart. But Cordelia did know boys. She had always insisted that there was an actual set of rules that must be followed in order to have a successful romance. Her rules must not have done her much good though, because she had yet to have a successful romance.

 

She really ought to be focusing on how to get her sister back. Every time she thought about Dawn she shuddered. She kept picturing her body, bruised and broken. Her hair framing her pale, bloodless face. How much pain was involved with this Glory's ritual? She couldn't bring herself to ask…especially in front of her mother. She felt soothing feelings coming from her bond with Spike and was absolutely disgusted with herself for being pleased. But even when he was with Drusilla, he was focused on her.

 

She was an emotional roller coaster right now and she wished she had Spike here to focus her. Cordelia was rambling on about shoe quality. God! Didn't she even care that Angel was beyond hurting, Dawn was missing, and the end of the world was coming? But, then again, Buffy couldn't miss the tightness around the ex-cheerleader’s eyes, her pale features. Buffy could almost believe that she was just chattering to fill the silence so she didn't have to focus on her own worries. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought of her own distraction. Spikes pale hands gliding over her skin, the way his eyes burned into hers, his ragged "I love you, love you so much, Buffy" whispered in her ear as he came inside her. But everyone knew that “I love you” didn't count when it was said during sex.

 

"How long till we get home Giles?" Buffy interrupted Cordelia's incessant chatter and couldn't find it within herself to feel even slightly guilty about her rudeness.

 

"We'll be there soon Buffy." He paused, and for a moment the air was pregnant with heavy silence while he visibly struggled with how to word his next sentence. "I know this a rough time for you, Buffy, and I know this is a bit of a delicate situation…with, uhm, your uh, relationship with Spike. But the truth is we should, ah, discuss a bit, before we arrive, what we plan to do with the van full of vampires that will be on our doorstep when we get to Revello Drive."

 

"Angel and Spike aren't going to let us stake Drusilla, and she isn't going to let us stake her minions." Buffy sighed. "I hate letting Vamps go, but really, my sister and the end of the world is a little more important right now."

 

"Buffy, we can't simply let them go. They will hunt someone right here in Sunnydale. You have a calling, you have a duty. I know that right now is a hard time for you personally but you are still the Slayer. You must…"

 

"Stop it!" Buffy's voice came out shrill and undignified. Tears pooled in her eyes unbidden. How could he be so cold? He knew Dawn. How could he go on about her duty? Fuck her duty! "Stop it right now!" Buffy couldn't control the tempo of her breathing, she was panting heavily, and her nails were biting into her skin because her hands were curled into tight little balls of fury.

"The world is in jeopardy! This Glory has my sister and is going to torture and kill her. I'm mated to a sadistic killer who cares more about my feelings than you do! How sick and wrong is that!" She let out a strangled sob and swallowed a big gasp of air, even as more words tumbled recklessly from her mouth. "A Vampire knows me better than my Watcher. How dare you lecture me about my duty! I know my duty! I've died for my duty. Just last week I was prepared to die again! How dare you!"

 

"Buffy, dear, just calm down." Her mother's soothing voice and concerned features did nothing to calm her. Everything had been piling up on her for so long and suddenly she couldn't control her emotions, or her mouth, or her tears. She hated that she had wet streaks on her cheeks. She hated to cry. Faith putting one arm around her shoulders and glaring at her Watcher reproachfully did not help. Faith was the very last person that Buffy wanted to see her break down this way. 

 

"I will not calm down!" Her voice was high pitched and ragged and Buffy couldn't believe that it was hers. "I've done everything that's been asked of me, including his sick little kill a vampire while drugged birthday surprise! I mention perhaps choosing my battles and setting priorities at save the world first and kill a couple Vamps later, Vamps who helped us, by the way, and suddenly I'm inadequate as a Slayer?!"

 

Giles put the Blazer into park outside her home and turned to face her. "Now, Buffy, that's enough of this childishness…I was just saying that…"

 

Her door was yanked open and she was hauled against a solid male chest. A wall of soothing masculinity that smelled like Spike. "What the bloody hell are you doing to my girl?" He snarled at the car full of people. Buffy felt shame building inside her even as she let out great gasping sobs against her mate, wetting his shirt. And she was ashamed of how she had acted. Just because she was stressed did not give her the right to snap and scream at the people she loved. They looked to her for leadership and she was falling apart under the pressure. She needed to get it together. Instead she twisted her hands in Spike's shirt and cried.

 

“It’s my fault,” she gasped out against his wet shirt, “I sent her with Angel. A big blinking sign that she was the key. If I would have kept her at home. Glory wouldn’t have known. I don’t even know where she is!” 

 

“We don’t know how she found out, and it doesn’t matter, we are going to get her back and kill that bitch.” He promised, and Buffy actively started trying to pull herself together. There was no time for crying, her sister was missing. 

 

"Luv," He whispered against her ear, a soft soothing sound that rumbled through her senses. "I need you to go inside on your own steam, sweets. I've got to clear these Vamps out of here and carry Peaches in." His voice turned harsh and he turned the bulk of his formidable attention to her friends. "You lot go in with her, and stay out of trouble. I find out you made her cry again I'll rip out your soddin’ spines and dance on your bloody corpses." For a moment he nuzzled her hair before whispering so softly that she could barely hear him. "We'll get her back Buffy, I promise."

 

She was released and hastily dried her face with her hands before turning to herd the people into the house. She couldn't fall apart now. She felt wrung out and shaky, but her emotions had evened out somewhat. She supposed the experts knew what they were talking about when they said that crying was good for the soul. As well as someone to lean on. She gave Spike a wobbly smile as she followed her shocked friends and family into the house.

 

She reclined by the window and watched as Spike waved his arms and paced a bit, talking to the other Vampires. Obviously giving them instructions. The two newer Vampires seemed clearly frightened, and Drusilla looked very very angry. Spike swept out a foot, sending the larger Vampire sprawling on the concrete driveway. He then hauled him up to his knees by his flannel shirt so he could hiss in his face. Drusilla yanked the Vamp out of Spike’s grasp and let him tumble to the ground behind her uncaringly, stepping up close to Spike to get in his face. Buffy looked away from the scene and met the eyes of her Watcher. The room was deathly silent and no one else met her eyes. 

 

"We wait for Spike, we care for Angel, and then we plan. We're taking my sister back. We're killing Glory. And nothing takes precedence over that. Everyone got it?"

 

There were solemn nods around the room, and even Faith had nothing to say about it. Her mother gave Buffy a long, sad look before excusing herself to fix refreshments. Moments later, she got to her feet and opened the door for Spike, who carried Angel easily in his arms. She had Spike follow her upstairs to her room. He scowled when she directed him to put Angel in her bed, but he didn’t protest. Angel seemed to be uncounsious, but still roused enough to let out a groan of pain when Spike shifted him to put him down. Buffy twisted her hands and fretted. 

 

Spike was equally worked up and fidgeted nervously for a moment before rocking back on his heels and taking up a cocky stance. "Those knees must hurt something awful."

 

"Yeah, you think I should give him my blood?" She looked down at Angel, concerned and worried. She couldn't even imagine the pain he must be in. Poor Angel. He'd tried so hard to defend Dawn. She knew how tender his heart was, he must be all torn up inside about not being able to save her.

 

"HELL NO!" She turned and fought valiantly to keep her lips strait at the site of his furious features. "I've got some painkillers coming." He said in a forcefully strained voice. He was trying so hard not to be mad at her.

 

"You sent Dru and her goons to get someone?!" Buffy was suddenly having trouble controlling her own temper. God! She had just told everyone that they had priorities and Spike, her lover and mate, had sent his girlfriend on a killing spree.

 

"Relax, Slayer," Spike whipped out his pocket knife and began to cut Angel's pants off above the knee. Angel moaned and moved, and Spike braced one hand on his thigh to keep him still. "I made sure that they knew they weren't to kill anyone. Dru was right pissed about minding the Slayer, but I'm confident she'll do as she's told. I told her I would dust her boys if I found out she'd harmed a hair on anyone's head."

 

She reached out and held Angel's limp hand as Spike efficiently peeled the blood soaked strips of material off of the elder Vampire. "Ruining my reputation. Slayer's lapdog I am, just like the great pouf. I'll never live this down." He muttered, assessing the damage with the cool practiced air of a physician. There was a knock at the window and Spike waved her over to it. She slid the window open to find a very frightened spacey eyed woman being held by her arms by the larger Vampire. She took the frightened woman by the hand and helped her through the window without issuing an invitation. "Run along, infant." Spike snapped at the Vampire. "And if I find out you haven't been taking proper care of Dru, you'll be praying for dust."

 

"Had him bring her up here so your groupies wouldn't be giving you the evil eye." Spike said simply, eyeing the girl critically. "Skinny thing, isn't she? Idiot has no eye for quality. Angelus wouldn't have given spoils like her a second glance in the day." He turned his knife on his own forearms, dripping blood over Angel's knees. Buffy turned away and focused on the woman whose hand she still held. She was little more than a girl, maybe twenty years old. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and her gaze darted towards the door.

 

"I'm not really into sadomasochism. Rick didn't say anything about that when he said he had a job for me." She said, edging towards the door. Buffy stood helplessly. She wanted to help Angel, but she was not going to victimize anyone. She was the Slayer and it was her job to protect people. Even drug addict prostitutes. 

 

The girl twitched violently and stopped moving towards the door, her eyes wide as they could go. Spike pulled a fourth hundred dollar bill from Angel's wallet and laid it on top of the other three on the bedside table.

 

She pushed her long lanky hair back from her face as if trying to get a better view and took a hesitant step in the direction of the money. "I'm not going to let you guys hurt me." She said rather bravely, but she never met Spike's eyes. Her gaze was only on the crisp bills only six feet from her. She twitched unnaturally and shifted from one foot to the other in a haunting, swaying dance.

 

"We ain't gonna hurt you, pet. And we ain't gonna kill you. We just need a little blood, straight from the tap, and you can go. And take that money right there with you."

 

"You want my blood?" Buffy turned from the horrified look on the girls face and left the room. 

 

She was a horrible, lousy excuse for a Slayer. She walked down the hall to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat down on the stool and buried her head in her hands, unable to even cry. She wasn't in there long before Spike picked the lock and knelt down in front of her.

 

"It's over, sweets. We didn't hurt her, and I got her downstairs safe." She couldn't bring herself to touch him. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and drown in his kisses. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood stiffly.

 

"I've got to check on Angel. Is he awake?"

 

"Yeah pet, he is." Spike seemed slightly alarmed with her distance. "We didn't hurt her." He repeated.

 

But this was something he couldn't understand. He had no soul, he had no guilt. And he would never understand what walking out of that room had cost her. She had just been rather forcefully reminded of what he was. And what she was. She made sure not to brush up against him when she edged around him and walked back to her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Kbeautimous for all the help editing this story!


	25. Culmination

**Culmination**

 

Angel's face was no longer white with pain, his features relaxed. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of Angelus, a carefree lightness that couldn't be associated with Angel. For a second her stomach clenched, but she washed down her fear and walked into the confines of her bedroom. He met her eyes with a small smile, slightly skewed, as if he didn't have complete control of his muscles. "I'm sorry," He said softly, dropping his eyes and his smile. "I was weak."

 

They stood in silence and the moment stretched into awkwardness. As were so many of the few moments between them now. There really was nothing to say. Every time she saw him they were farther apart, living in different worlds, different universes. How could LA be so far away? "No one begrudges you painkillers." She finally said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Once she might have touched him, his hand or his face. But her hands stayed in her lap, folded pristinely. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Disoriented." He said weakly. She didn't like seeing him like this. It reminded her of another place, another time. Another time she had been willing to sacrifice a human for him. "Don't be angry with Spike, he was very kind to that girl."

 

She wondered what the admission had cost him. She felt Spike enter the room, silent as a wolf. Drifting behind her, out of her line of vision, invisible in the mirror. He knew she knew he was there, but his soundless, stealthy steps were second nature. The innate tendency of an accomplished predator. She shuddered, and he kept his distance. She wasn't angry, just sad. Very sad. She steeled her expression and her heart. There were other things to worry about right now. Romance was so not on the list of priorities. 

 

Wait for Spike, check. Care for Angel, check. Time to get her sister back and take Glory down. Hard.

 

"You need your rest, sleep." She said simply and climbed to her feet. Spike followed her into the hall and closed the door quietly behind him. "Where are Dru and the other Vamps headed?" She asked.

 

"I told them to head out of Sunnydale and not to hunt here." Buffy nodded mutely and went downstairs. He stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment before he finally followed her.

 

The war council was grim and fast. That was where they were now. War. Quickly, everyone conferred and it was decided unanimously that Spike hunting by scent was the best hope of finding Dawn. And the sooner he got out on the streets the better. If she wasn't bleeding her scent would fade fast. 

 

They decided to head to the wealthier side of town and Cordelia was already on the phone, calling hotels, searching for her "aunt.” Spike was vibrating with energy. When she asked, he said he was coming off the drugs, but her blood made his body sing.

 

It was just the two of them in the dark streets. She’d left Faith behind to protect everyone and refused to have any of her friends tag along. This was not a Sunday patrol. She couldn’t afford to have any laggers on the team. The scenery was unfamiliar. Buffy didn't visit this side of town often in daylight, and very rarely patrolled here. After dispatching three Vampires within the hour, she was beginning to think that she should spend some quality time here. The problem was that the police tended to assemble here and rarely left the safer confines of the west side for the rest of Sunnydale.

 

Spike was rarely silent, so the hush between them was particularly conspicuous. She subconsciously found herself closing the physical distance between them. Her body brushed up against him and she didn't move away. He couldn't help the way he was. And it was unreasonable to be so hurt. He was just helping Angel, and he had followed her unspoken rules all the way. How could she forgive Angel so easily, but when Spike did the exact same thing, she was furious? How could some of the same things that drew her to him also push her away? Deadly, cunning, intelligent. Maybe she should consider dating a Marine or something to scratch her bad boy itch without breaking out in hives.

 

They trotted quickly down one street and up the next. Spike was completely focused, silent, turning his head this way and that in game face. Her mind was really becoming quite twisted. She couldn't help a squashed giggle every time someone took a double take and found themselves staring at an innocently scowling Spike, game face gone. 

 

At least it was funny until the boys in blue took a special interest in them and crossed the street, stopping them. "Awful late for you two to be out wandering the streets." Barney wannabe drawled.

 

Spike rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not against the law." 

 

Buffy stiffened Antagonize the police, great game plan, Spike. As if his bruised and battered face wasn’t screaming quietly that they were not innocent type people. She gave him a very dirty look before giving the cops her very best blonde ditz smile.

 

"We're just out for a walk." Buffy said sweetly, trying out the twisty sluty move that Faith was using earlier. Spike let out a little growl and moved closer, pressing himself flush up against her back. He was just so cute when he was jealous.

 

"Where are you headed?" Asked the other policeman; aiming a slightly overly polite smile in her direction. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here this late at night."

 

Spike made no sound but his hands flexed twice. "Oh, I'm not worried," She said sweetly, playing the dumb cheerleader to perfection, if she did say so herself. "I've got William to protect me." She smiled up at him and had to choke down giggles at the furious expression on his face. Poor Spike, he was all tensed up with violence and couldn't maim the police because she would get all mad. Suddenly, Spike went motionless and squeezed her waist gently.

 

"I'm supposed to get my girl home by eleven, so if you blokes can excuse us." He steered her away without giving her so much as a chance to say anything. She turned and waved at their enthusiastic goodbyes just to rattle Spike. He just had this effect on her, any other time she would have been embarrassed to flirt with a policeman, but Spike always made things so fun. 

 

"I caught a whiff of her." He whispered in her ear, walking casually until they turned the corner.

 

"Dawn? Glory?" She questioned, suddenly dead serious, excuse the pun.

 

"Both, they were both here, just recently."

 

Spike led her to a small back door of an expensive looking hotel. They looked at each other and on a whim Buffy leaned in and gave him a small kiss, just barely a press of lips. She meant for that to be all, just a reassurance after wigging out earlier, but Spike pulled her back in for an encore that left her breathless and shaky. "What's the game plan?"

 

She frowned in thought. "Recon. We'll check it out, see what we are up against, and then decide. If we can get her out, we will. I don't want her in there any longer than she has to be." 

 

He nodded and pushed the door open. She darted in before him, and she felt irritation spark through the bond. She smiled at his protectiveness and walked down the small corridor like she owned it. It opened into a busy, noisy kitchen. No one paid them any mind as they walked directly through, dodging cooks and assistants. Spike led her to a narrow staircase at the back of the kitchen; if he hadn't brought it to her attention, she might not have even noticed it. He jogged up without hesitation. She glanced behind her, but no one noticed them. Sunnydale citizens really needed to become more aware of their surroundings.

 

Spike strutted without hesitation to the elevator and pushed the button. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "There's at least five of them, not including little sis and superbitch." 

 

There was a very proper looking couple in the elevator and Buffy suddenly became very conscious of her faded blue jeans and spangle top. She stepped inside with a shy smile and Spike pushed the button for the next floor. They sat in silence as the elevator moved up.

 

The stuffy couple eyed them disapprovingly, and even though she wasn't looking at him, Buffy just knew that Spike was scowling at them. She felt herself blush when Spike pulled her back against him and buried his head in her neck. She almost pulled away in embarrassment before she felt him shift into game face just as the doors slid open. "Not it." He whispered and she reached out to push the shiny number three. The woman sniffed and looked away. Thankfully the conservative woman and her husband departed on the third floor.

 

They rode all the way to the sixth floor before Spike nodded and they stepped cautiously out into the wide hall. She wouldn't be able to jump out of a window here. Maybe Spike could leap out with Dawn and she'd find her own way. They crept without a sound along the soft, padded carpet. 

 

Spike stopped at a door and they looked at each other. What now? Spike reached out and stroked her hair; it took her a second to realize that he had pulled her barrette out. Thief. Maybe he was a pickpocket before he was a Vampire.

 

He crushed her barrette and manipulated the wire before squatting down and inserting the end into the lock. Buffy casually leaned up against the wall and kept watch. It seemed like forever before she heard a small pop. Spike grinned at her and game faced, leaning into the door to listen. "Seven people breathing, someone whispering in the back room. Dawnie's crying, very softly, maybe into her pillow."

 

"There's two rooms?"

 

"Yeah, sounds are muffled at the back, must be a suite." He pushed the door open quickly, and he was in the room so fast she only saw a blur where he used to be. He dispatched the two short men in seconds, breaking their necks. 

 

It's them or Dawn, it's them or Dawn, it's them or Dawn. She kept up her inner monologue and fought back tears as he lay the second man down on the carpet noiselessly. She shut the door silently, and they moved quickly to the back room. Spike touched the knob and pulled out the twisted wire from before. Buffy looked around, wondering what the best exit route might be. There was a light click and Spike met her eyes before pushing the door open.

 

Dawn lay in one of the large beds that filled most of the room. Buffy hesitated a second, checking to see that her sister was ok before springing into action. 

 

Spike had already taken out two more of the quirky, creepy guard things. Buffy moved to attack a small, well dressed demon in a suit, but he moved like greased lightning and her fists connected with air. At the corner of her consciousness she was aware of Spike exchanging blows with Glory. But she was concentrating on her own fight. This little guy was unbelievably fast, and he hit really hard.

 

She threw a glance at her sister and shouted for her to run. It cost her, as in a big right hook to her cheek, but Dawnie, apparently unharmed, leapt out of bed and sprang for the door. Suddenly a huge weight crashed into Buffy, knocking her against the wall. Her head rebounded painfully against the harsh plaster and she stared for a moment at the pretty stars dancing in front of her eyes. Spike pushed off of her, where he had apparently been flung, and leapt back at Glory. But it was too late to distract her. She raised one dainty hand and sent the door swinging shut with a sharp sound of finality.

 

Ooookaay. Plan B. Buffy grabbed Spike, hurling him towards her sister, and leaped at Glory herself. She picked up a heavy chair in mid leap and smashed it over, what did Spike call her, superbitch’s head. 

 

"Window!" She shouted loudly, and swung one of the broken pieces of the chair at Glory's back. It connected with a very satisfying thunk. Of course, it didn't even faze her. The God swung at Buffy and she thanked her lucky stars that she managed to maneuver out of her way because that looked like it might have hurt. At the same time, she jabbed with the splintered end of her chair leg and drew blood. From the corner of her eye she watched as Spike ripped out the little demon's throat. He scooped up her sister and hurled through the air towards the window even as the demon fell to the ground. His shoulder hit the glass and he rebounded with a crash.

 

Glory managed to grab her while she was distracted and spun her into the wall with enough force to make her head spin. The God twisted Buffy's arm behind her back painfully and forced her head against the wall with one hand. Buffy struggled and attempted to free herself, but Glory was much stronger than she looked. "Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions? That I'd leave the window available for an escape route?" She snarled in Buffy's ear. "Did you puny mortals really think you could defeat me?"

 

Spike was shaking himself off and hurled towards them with Vampire speed. He grabbed Glory with one hand and Buffy with the other. And then things got crazy. 

 

Later, the whole event would be a bit of a blur. The second the three of them touched, an electric shock went through her body and she was struck immobile. From Spike's hands, and her own she noticed belatedly, poured bright green runes, frighteningly familiar. She felt dizzy and sick as a circle of terrifying green light enclosed the three of them. She felt it drawing closer and closer and heard Glory’s frantic shrieks, and then there was nothing. Just blessed darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to kbeautimous for the lovely edit job!


	26. Uncertainty

**Uncertainty**

 

The world was rocking violently. No, that was just her. Someone was shaking her. They were yelling at her to get up. Her mind was fuzzy, her thoughts scattered. She couldn't seem to piece together reality. It was Dawnie; Dawnie was yelling and shaking her. Dawnie was ok. Had she been in danger? Oh yeah, Glory. 

 

Buffy's eyes popped open. Her sister was crouched over her, hands on both her shoulders, sobbing loudly. "Buffy, Buffy, oh my God! Are you alright!? You and Spike wouldn't wake up."

 

Oh, Spike. Buffy felt a crushing weight of loneliness and loss. Oh, please, no. She heaved herself up on her elbow so she could see him. He was lying next to her on his back, limbs spread akimbo in a rare display of gracelessness. If she wasn't seeing him, she wouldn't have even known he was there. He was completely gone from her head. There was no trace of him, as if he'd never been there at all. 

 

Buffy wanted to run naked through the night screaming. Buffy wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and sob hopelessly. Buffy wanted to latch onto him and beg him to make it right with them again, because her whole world suddenly seemed wonky. She'd always walked alone; it just wasn't until this moment that she realized just how lonely it was.

 

"What happened?" She asked, shocked at the cracked, hoarse voice that came from her throat. "Where's Glory?" 

 

She started to use her mind to wake up Spike, but then with a wince had to call for him out loud. He twitched awake and his eyes latched onto her. She almost wept at the horrified frantic look in his eyes. He missed her too. Dawn was enthusiastically bubbling over with details about green light and Glory's screams. He looked away first, climbing stiffly to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it gratefully, intensely aware of his cool strong fingers. His touch felt strange without the accompanying maelstrom of sensations in her head. Did her touch still do the same thing to him, or was she just another Slayer again?

 

She held back tears bravely and focused on her sister. She was sparkling with happiness that everyone was alright. She was completely unaware that Buffy's world was collapsing in on itself and that things would never ever be alright again. 

 

"Alright, pet,” Spike interrupted, “got the green light covered. Where's the soddin’ drama queen?" 

 

Dawn started crying again and Spike released Buffy’s hand to pull her sister into his arms. He held her sobbing form close to him for a few minutes before it occurred to Buffy that she ought be alarmed that the evil undead had her helpless sister cradled to him. Buffy was a bad, bad Slayer, and an awful sister. She couldn't even summon a token amount of fear.

 

"Shhh kitten, it's alright. Calm down and tell Spike what happened." Dawn began actively trying to calm down, taking big gulps of air and wiping at her eyes.

 

"I don't know where she is. She was just gone. She disappeared in all the light." Her sister wheezed out. "She flashed, kind of two dimensional like, in and out at least a dozen times and then she disappeared. All the light quit and you guys just fell." She took another shuddering breath and swiped at the tears again. "I was so afraid she would come back and I couldn't wake you guys up. I know you're supposed to dust if you die but you were so cold and still. And I couldn't wake you up." She buried her head in Spike's shoulder, but the crying seemed to be at an end. "And Buffy was barely breathing at all, and even when I shook her and shook her she just wouldn't wake up."

 

Buffy envied her sister the comfort of Spike's embrace. Would she ever feel that comfort again? Highly unlikely. Spike met her gaze over her sister's bowed head and they stared at each other for a long breathless moment before she broke eye contact. She walked over to the phone and picked it up. With the state of damage in the room it was almost a surprise when the dial tone rang in her ear. She dialed home and took stock, looking around the room. Blood stains on the carpet, holes in the walls, feathers everywhere. But no bodies, not one. With all the blood maybe she ought to be thinking about how to get out all stealthy like, wouldn't do to be seen.

 

Her mother answered on the second ring. A forced cheerfulness overlying the echo of tears in her voice. "It's me mom. I've got Dawn, we're coming home." Her mother just began to cry. "We're all OK mom, she's just a little shook up. We'll be home soon."

 

Spike scooped up Dawn in his arms. She wasn't hurt, she could have walked, but she didn't protest the way that Buffy would have. Instead she looped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder in a gesture of absolute trust. Buffy felt like she ought to protest but couldn't raise the energy. She knew Spike wouldn't hurt her sister. "It's a long way up to take the window sweetheart." Spike said as he Vamped by the door, head tilted listening. "There's no one in the hall."

 

She joined him, met his eyes again, silence between their minds, and pushed the door open resolutely. She followed Spike out, closing the door behind her and waltzing with him down the hallway like they owned it. They reached the elevator and Dawn reached out to press the button. "You should put her down, draw less attention to us." He placed her on her feet and Buffy reached out, grabbing her hand and squeezing gently. Thankfully no one was in the elevator and no one paid them any mind when the left the same way they came in. Down the back stairs, through the kitchen.

 

The streets were dark and deserted and Buffy almost protested when Spike ducked into a phone booth and called a cab, but one look at her sister changed her mind. She was swaying on her feet, her features tired and drawn. Dawn wasn't up to the walk home. 

 

"How did you know how to defeat her?" Buffy asked Spike in a soft undertone.

 

"I didn't, I was just trying to get her off you." 

 

The cab was a tight fit, Dawn sandwiched between them. When they arrived home she tensed, terribly afraid that Spike wouldn't even come in with her. But he made no move to leave, opening the door for her like he always did. Her mom hugged her several times before everyone else got a turn. She gave a very brief account of what happened. 

 

She didn't know why she didn't tell them that her bond with Spike had been severed. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't want them to know, more like she wasn't ready to say it out loud. Giles looked extremely grave and started mumbling about books he needed to look in.

 

"I want to make sure she's really gone, Giles, not just zapped or something." Buffy forced out, fighting the horrifying numbness in her mind occupying Spike’s space. 

 

"Of course, Buffy. I'll look into it thoroughly. I have a feeling this event may also give us some insight into your bond with Spike…" He looked up at her and his eyes shifted from Watcher to concerned friend. "Buffy, are you alright? You look a little pale."

 

"No, I'm fine, really, Giles. I'm just a little tired." She glanced around for Spike and felt a moment of panic before she stomped on it ruthlessly. Just because he wasn't in the room didn't mean he had left.

 

She saw Giles to the door. He was dropping off her various friends at their homes, Wills at the dorm. Faith said she wanted to stay at a hotel, but Buffy’s mother insisted that she sleep here. 

 

Her mother started on dinner. It was already very late, but no one had eaten with all the stress, and her mother would never let anyone go to bed hungry. Buffy climbed the stairs carefully, trying to be silent. If he was listening for her, he would know she was coming. 

 

She pushed open the door to her room but didn't enter. Spike sat in the chair by the bed, his head in his hands, his despair a palpable presence in the room. Angel was sitting up across from him, his elbows on his thighs.

 

"I've lost her. She's lost to me." Said Spike brokenly, almost so low she couldn't hear him. She thought Angel might know she was there but he made no indication.

 

"Come to LA, Spike. Take sanctuary. Find your center again; figure out what you want to do now."

 

"I don't want to go to sodding LA, Peaches."

 

"You're a wreck, Spike, and some random killing spree won't help you. I've never seen you like this."

 

"And you think LA will be my sanctuary?" He gave a bitter laugh. "There's no such thing. We can't all have shiny souls and redemption."

 

Buffy backed out silently and crept back down the stairs. 

 

When supper was ready she almost swooned in relief. She had about chewed her tongue off with Cordelia and Faith for company. They'd watched some stupid cheerleader show that made Cordie happy. She barely was aware of the film, rubbing her senses raw, aware that no amount of stretching and reaching mentally was going to find Spike but unable to help it. Like wiggling a sore tooth. There was nothing but emptiness and loneliness in her head and the only sense of Spike was the sharp awareness of powerful vampires upstairs. She grabbed onto the excuse to go upstairs and get him for supper, a quick casserole her mother had tossed together. 

 

Spike was sitting by the window in his chair, staring out into the night, and Angel appeared to be asleep again. In her bed. She shivered. Her bond with Spike was apparently over, and still the sight of her former lover in her bed did not send goosey shivers down her spine.

 

"Spike," She whispered. "Should I wake Angel for this blood or wait?" She held up the glass filled with the heavy liquid and he turned to her

.

"It'll keep, he needs sleep more than anything else." He said, turning towards her, tilting his head. Her breath caught when he rolled smoothly to his feet and waltzed towards her, all cocky swagger and silky grace.

 

"Come downstairs, eat with us." She said softly in reply. He looked for a moment as if he wouldn't, but instead he gestured for her to precede him and followed her down the stairs.

 

Dawn broke the silence of the dinner table, regaling the group with a glorified account of her capture and rescue. Enough of the details had been altered that it was a different story altogether. Spike was sprawled next to her, all casual coolness, occasionally adding to the conversation. "Oi, bit, don't forget when the Slayer smashed her with that chair. Bloody brilliant that." Or "Take a bit more than a mere God to stop our Slayer, eh, bite size?" As if nothing was wrong.

 

"Sleeping arrangements will be a bit rough." Her mother said apologetically. “Faith, if you don't mind taking the couch, Dawn can bunk with me and Cordelia can have her room."

 

"The Summers couch is familiar territory, Miss Summers." Faith drawled, slumped down in her chair. She had apparently decided that flirting with Spike got her nowhere and it wasn't worth sitting up if there wasn't a male to impress. That was a problem that would have to wait until tomorrow. With Glory gone, Faith was an untethered agent once again and Buffy needed to find out where she stood. But tonight, she’d fought enough battles and the Spike thing was definitely the most urgent trouble on her heart.

 

"I was thinking that you and Spike could bunk upstairs in the attic. Your grandmother's bed is up there and it wouldn't take Spike long to put it together." Her mom said. Buffy carefully didn't look at Spike. He could easily take his car and get anywhere he wanted before dawn.

 

"How's the light up there?" He asked, fishing out his cigarettes, pulling one out, placing it between fine lips, leaving it unlit. He didn't smoke in the house when her mom was home. How come she didn't merit the same respect?

 

"Oh, there is an eastern window, but it's small. I thought you guys could cover it up."

 

"Sounds lovely, a right getaway for me and the duchess." She gave him a small smile. He was so nice to her mom, her family.

 

"It's very late, Dawnie, to bed with you. I'll see to our guests and be up." Buffy glanced at the clock. It was very late, or early depending on how you looked at it. Spike pushed away from the table and went out on the porch to smoke. Just a few hours ago she would have joined him. Instead, she went upstairs to shower. She made it quick, dressing in the flannel pajamas her mother left on the toilet. When she came out of the bathroom she jumped, startled to find Spike lounging in the hallway. It didn't seem right for him to be able to startle her.

 

He moved into her personal space without touching her. "Mmmm, warm, wet Slayer," He growled at her, pitched low so listening ears wouldn't hear. She smiled up at him, suddenly shy, and pointed at a door.

 

"Those are the attic steps." She went to the linen closet, getting sheets. And blankets, since the upstairs could be chilly sometimes. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. A moment later she heard the spray come on. She fought down the desire to enter the bathroom, wash his hard, taut body down with suds. Kiss his neck, his lips. If he'd wanted to shower with her, he'd have come in.

 

She went upstairs and took stock of their, what had Spike called it? "Getaway." There were boxes piled up around the room, old furniture draped with sheets. The light from the bare bulb was spotty with dust. The bed was all the way at the back of the attic, the frame in pieces. She frowned at the small window, trying to decide how best to cover it to keep Spike safe from the sun. She draped a heavy blanket over the curtain hardware that was over the window and then began stacking heavy boxes up in front of it. No light would get in. What were they going to do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kbeautimous continues to do a lovely job with the editing!


	27. I'll Tell You No Lies

**I'll Tell You No Lies**

Buffy stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Two rows of boxes flattened the heavy blanket against the small window, effectively eradicating any hope of a stray beam of sunlight. Pleased and nervous, Buffy turned and jumped a foot in the air, a silent gasp of surprise escaping her before she could squash it. Not twelve inches from her was Spike. How on God's green earth did he sneak up on her? Her eyes flickered towards the door before she could stop them. Closed even. She hadn't even heard a click. She hated it when he did the supernatural thing.

Her heart beat a steady tattoo in her chest that she knew he could hear. His blond locks were tousled and wet, curling over his forehead in a way that made her pulse react alarmingly. Bare chested, in nothing but snug black jeans, he made a spectacular sight. Head slightly tilted, neck curved gracefully, cut muscles tracing a roadway down his rock hard chest and disappearing into his low slung denims. Even now, just looking at him left her breathless, weak, and girly. It wasn't something she felt often, perhaps not ever since becoming the Slayer. But she was the Slayer, and he was who he was. Just what were they doing standing in the filtered light of the attic in her mother's house, staring at each other like love struck fools?

He moved suddenly, and she concentrated on a shaft of light from under the door as he snaked into her personal space. She didn't know what to do with her hands, where to look. She wanted to touch him so badly that her hands twitched and her breath came in ragged drags, but she had no excuses now. No clean cut mating bond to fog the moral issues. No way to twist and bend the truth to cast her in an acceptable light. Little more than a week ago he had killed for his dinner. More than once he had killed Slayers, because it was a challenge…fun for him. And now she had no hold on him. No guarantee that he wouldn't slaughter them all tonight while they slept. Who knew what went on behind those changing eyes?

She made the mistake of looking up at him, trying to gauge his thoughts from his expression, but there was no need to read between the lines. Mating bond or not, she knew that look now, had seen it many times. Skin drawn tight over cheekbones, heavy lidded eyes gleaming with lust fastened on her like she was the center of his universe. The look that made her breath quicken and her panties grow damp. She was deeply ashamed of the rash of goose bumps that broke out over her skin as her flesh grew hot and her body shaky. What excuse did she have now for the way he could make her pant just by looking at her?

Forcing her gaze away from him she lowered her eyes to his pale chest. She frowned. Something wasn't right. She gasped out loud, reaching out and running her hands down his unblemished chest. Not a mark, a bruise, a scrape even. He was completely healed. She took a deep breath, realizing suddenly that she felt better than she had in days. "Picked up on it have you? Sorry sad days when the Slayer's so distracted."

"I have a lot on my mind." Buffy snapped, snatching her hands away, but he was lightning quick, and caught her hands, placing them back on his chest.

"Don't," Was all he said before he lowered his head and kissed her. She wasn't sure if he really moved as slowly as molasses or if she just felt like it took forever for him to reach her lips. And then his kiss was so gentle and thorough that she thought she might scream. She needed more from him. She was as hungry tonight as she had been the very first time. Buffy brought his lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to make him groan. She slipped her hands over his shoulders and pulled his body into better contact with hers, kissing him roughly, shamelessly, and in no time he was responding just as aggressively.

He pulled back from her long enough to whip her top over her head. Immediately he began kissing her shoulders, his hands slipping down her bare back, caressing her hips. Oh, God. What was she doing? She was shaking so badly that she had to clutch at him to keep herself grounded, his skin was smooth and silky under her hands so she really had to dig in to find balance. He didn't seem to mind and she loved the way his body quaked with her touch. She couldn't stop touching him. This was so wrong. His mouth moved to her neck and she stiffened for a moment before relaxing. It was just kissing. Just kissing. But he felt it, how could he not, and he stiffened too. They sat there motionless for a moment, and Buffy didn't know what to do. She didn't want him to stop.

Buffy moved first, sweeping her hands down his back, around his waist to his fly. She reveled in his sharp indrawn breath…she could still affect him. He still wanted her. He kissed her neck, softly, deliberately. She let him, a thrill racing down her spine. He could crush her with his bare hands. He could vamp and rip her throat out. Instead, he made her moan helplessly with the magic of his lips and hands. She unzipped his fly and boldly pushed his jeans over his hips. He shifted, one foot and then the other, toeing off his jeans. Buffy trailed her hands down over his lean hips, and cupped his firm butt.

"Naughty girl." He whispered in her ear. She smiled wickedly, letting her hands trip softly across his skin to enclose her fingers around his rock hard erection. She slid her hands lightly up and down, increasing the pressure, wiping her thumb over the weeping head of him to catch the moisture and wet her hands. "Jesus, Buffy, Christ, bloody hell, baby…" He began to chant helplessly in that way that he did. The way that let her know he was losing control. She sank fluidly to her knees and Spike let out a feeling groan and buried his hands in her hair. Still she teased him, kissing first one thigh and then the other, running her hand up his leg and cupping his sac lightly, gently massaging him to the tune of his breathless words of encouragement.

She wanted him just as out of control as the first time she had done this. She remembered that rush of power, getting so caught up in the way he wanted her. She wanted that again. She wanted to prove the magic was still there. She looked up at him through her lashes, wanted to see the look on his face as she wrapped her lips around him and slid him in deep. Enjoyed his full body shudder as his hands wound in her hair, his eyes almost burning with desire as she swirled her tongue around the tip, worked back and forth increasing the pressure.

She loved having this control over him, reducing him to sloppy hips and incoherent words. It was a power trip like no other. When he started babbling about love she almost pulled back, almost stopped, but then hardened her heart and sucked harder. He didn't mean it. I love you doesn't count during sex. She just wished he wouldn't…it hurt her in places she didn't want to think about. Because deep down she wanted him to look her in the eye and whisper those fierce words of adoration. He bucked his hips forward and then stiffened and Buffy didn't hesitate to swallow, using her leverage on his ass to hold him steady.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…" He chanted brokenly as he shuddered through his orgasm and she pulled back enough to look up at him as he stared down at her in wonder. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her without hesitation. Somehow she had thought that he wouldn't want to…after…but he devoured her mouth desperately. Suddenly he hiked her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips automatically. He cupped his hands beneath her bottom to support her and stumbled blindly towards the back of the attic. She tried to pull back so he could see where he was going but he tugged her mouth back to his, as if she was his life's breath and he would cease to exist if he wasn't kissing her.

The bed wasn't put together but Spike just kicked out at the mattress causing it to fall flat with a dull thud. He set her on her feet finally, kissing her neck, her shoulder. "Going to make you feel so good…make you mine...skin like wet silk..." Panting as though she left him breathless, desperate touches as though she might change her mind. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. Spike so focused on her that the entire world and all the problems that it carried ceased to matter. She needed him so into her that she didn't need the bond to feel his overpowering desire for her.

He started to push her down on the mattress but she resisted, catching his hands which were already starting to tug at her loose pants. "Spike, sheets…I need sheets…" She panted breathlessly. She wanted him in a bad way but she wasn't about to fornicate with a Vampire on her grandmother's mattress…without sheets.

He lifted his head, giving her a bemused smile, and she laughed at his expression. "I'll make you forget about sheets." He growled, leaning in to nip at her chin. "I'll make you forget your bloody name."

She rolled her eyes and pulled away from him. "Ego much?" She said over her shoulder as she turned away and went back to the door for the sheets. She made sure the little lock was turned before she went back to him. She was intensely aware of her bare breasts swaying and clutched the bedding to her chest self consciously. She could have walked away just now. This was an admission. This was a concession. She was walking back to him of her own free will. And he was waiting for her. He was here. Surely that must mean something. He could have faded out of her life quick as thought already. But he was still here.

He didn't touch her, just reached for the sheets and carefully helped her make up the bed…well, the mattress on the floor. She resisted the urge to cover herself again. This was ridiculous…it was nothing he hadn't seen.

She glanced at him out of the corner or her eye and saw that he was carefully not looking. Sometimes the considerate things he did seriously freaked her out. She fluffed the last pillow, tossing it on the bed, and turned to touch him, but he was already stretched out comfortably, his eyes on her face.

She started to get in bed too but he held up a hand. "Undress for me." He said huskily and Buffy froze. His gaze raked over her, lingering on her breasts as she stood awkwardly at his feet. "Bend over and slide those filmy pants down over your hips." She was sure that she was blushing like a virgin, but she did as he asked and tried not to rush because she wanted to please him. She stood again, kicking the pants off her feet and her body flushed all over. His eyes were hot and dark with lust and she ran her hands down over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs. Did he want her to take off her panties too? In a flash he was on his knees in front of her, bending down to take her breasts in her mouth.

Oh, God, Oh, God. "Spike…" She moaned out load, and suddenly his hands were everywhere it seemed, her breasts were on fire with his touch and her panties were soaked through. Surely he could smell her lust. He whipped her panties down her thighs and tugged on her so that she crawled up the bed with him. She languidly wrapped herself around him, sliding one leg between his and kissed him. He wrapped his foot around her leg and pushed her panties off with his toes. He was rock hard against her hip and Buffy found it exhilarating. She did this to him.

He rolled her over to her back, leisurely kissing her shoulder, and her collar bone. He kissed one breast, sucking gently, pulling the extended peak more firmly into his mouth. He pulled back and blew cool air over her flushed skin and Buffy trembled and let out another strangled sound of pleasure. His hand played over her stomach, swept along her hips. He laved his tongue in the valley between her breasts, his hand moving down her thigh. He placed small kisses all around her other breast, avoiding the nipple and Buffy moaned and tossed, "Please, Spike…" before he finally flicked his tongue over her sensitive flesh and she almost achieved orgasm just from that sensation.

"Easy, pet…easy…Not yet…" He murmured against her skin, sliding his hand between her knees…urging her legs open. He kissed the skin beneath her breasts and ran his hand up her inner thigh. His head went lower, trailing kisses to her belly button. He dipped his tongue inside the small crevice at the same time as his fingers brushed over her curls so lightly that she almost screamed. Instead she gasped out loud and bucked her hips forward impatiently.

"Spike, I need…" He teased her open with one long finger, sweeping it from bottom to top, kissing her hipbone, "I need, oh Spppiiiikkkeee…" He trailed his tongue over the hollow between her hips, finger brushing over her clit, rotating and then retreating. Buffy was making breathless sounds of pleasure and didn't care if he knew how good he felt to her. Her hips rocked shamelessly, trying to gain more contact. He was kissing her thighs and Buffy opened her legs wider to give him access…so wrapped up in her lust that she didn't feel a twinge of embarrassment at the way he looked at her intimate parts. He pushed her knee back more, running his hand more firmly over her, spreading her sensitive lips for his eyes before finally lowering his head for a taste.

He turned her into a writhing slut. She slipped one leg over his shoulder, opening her legs wider and gasped and moaned and thrust as he worked her over with his tongue. He was relentless, working her clit softly until she was coming apart and then pulling back to lick her pussy lips, kiss her thighs. She realized after the third, maybe fourth time he had almost brought her to orgasm that she was begging him and stopped abruptly. He let out a muffled laugh against her sensitive skin. Asshole. And then he got serious, slipping fingers inside of her, flicking her sensitive flesh with his tongue. In minutes, seconds, hours…who knew… she was finally hitting her peak, bucking recklessly, frantically, as he tongued her through it..

He rested his head on her stomach and watched her come down from her high, Her breathing began to steady and she ran her fingers through his silky hair, making sure it was properly mussed. He grinned like a feral cat and stalked his way up her body, leaving wet soft kisses in his wake. He settled between her thighs and kissed her lips. Buffy drew her knees up to his hips and planted her feet on the mattress to give him purchase. He balanced his weight on his forearms and teased her opening, rotating his hips before entering her fully.

He rocked slowly and she met his easy thrusts, adjusting to being so full, shuddering at his hardness rubbing against her sensitive, swollen flesh. She ran her hands possessively over his shoulders, his back. Looking up into his eyes as he thrust inside her. She wrapped one leg around his lean hips, urging him to increase his pace as the light pleasure she was feeling began to build. She slid her leg down his leg, wrapping her foot around his ankle, finding balance and flipping him suddenly. He landed hard on his back, his cock stabbing her sweet spot and causing her to spasm and cry out with pleasure. She got her balance and found her rhythm. Bracing her hands on his chest and sitting up straight, riding him relentlessly.

Tremors of pleasure rolled through her body as she rocked to the soundtrack of pants and moans and groans. His hands caressed her hips, her stomach. He sat up slowly, pushing his hips against hers and Buffy cried out loudly at the sensation. He kissed her lips, her jaw, as they writhed together, wildly passionate, and loud...Buffy tried to temper her moans…what if her mother could hear…but he wrung sound from her without mercy.

His hands fisted in her hair, arching her body like a bow, thrusting her chest out so he could taste and touch and tease. Buffy cried out at the sensations and her fluid movements atop him became sloppy, her hands greedily pulling him closer, and still he wasn't close enough. Adrenaline washed through her veins, a heightened awareness of every touch and breath and sound. He filled her up and left her begging for more at the same time.

She moaned out loud at the rough touch of his callused fingers as he glided his hands firmly down her slick back to grasp her hips, guide her movements. He pulled her onto him more forcefully, changed the angle she was hitting, causing her to quiver and gasp like the wanton woman he turned her into. Buffy twisted and sobbed at his firm kisses, wet tongue finding its way along her collarbone, laving a warm kiss to her earlobe, and ending at her throat, leaving a necklace of marks in his wake. She shuddered, even as she tilted her head back, surrendering to him. She could feel her pulse fluttering at her throat in time with the blood pounding in her ears. She danced a knife's edge between fear and excitement and her whole body spasmed when he nipped her with flat even teeth.

Every rough pull of his hands brought Buffy down sharply down on him, the head of his cock brushing roughly against her, causing her to cry out in little gasps and whimpers. Buffy pushed hard against him, rubbing herself off, and finally her body spiraled out of control as orgasms ripped through her. His own strangled cry entwining with hers as he gave his last few thrusts with desperate urgency. She collapsed against him, boneless and trembling, his hands now soothing against her heated skin.

After a while, Spike laid back with her sprawled over him and Buffy fumbled behind her for the blankets bringing them over her rapidly cooling skin. She burrowed against him, breathing in his scent, enjoying the feel of his silky skin against her cheek. Should they talk? What on earth would she say? Buffy lay in the silence and agonized. He would have to promise, promise not to kill or feed or hurt people. She would have to trust him. A soulless, evil Vampire. Trust him not to lie to her. Trust him with her family, her friends.

And who was to say he even wanted to? So he indulged in sex with her. It hardly meant that he wanted to give up his entire way of life, deny his nature, and pal around with the Slayer and her friends. He was probably thinking about it right now. Buffy didn't really think he would hurt her mother, or her sister. But Faith would make a tasty snack on his way out to find Drusilla and go back to madness and mayhem. Was he just waiting for her to fall asleep, avoid the confrontation?

And what if he hunted in Sunnydale? A memory flashed in her mind…A sword through Angel's gut, his confusion, as he was swallowed by the swirling vortex of light. She would have to do her duty. But she couldn't even imagine dusting him. Still, the scenario played over in her head. Him bent over a helpless victim…raising his head…blood dripping from his fangs. He laughed at her even as the girl fell boneless and limp to the floor and he sprang over dead body…

Spike was pulling away from her. "Where are you going?" She asked, frightened that he hadn't decided to wait. He began pulling on his jeans, his face a closed mask. "Spike, I thought you were going to stay tonight…"

She couldn't do this now, it was too soon, she just…she couldn't even think. He buttoned his fly, he didn't leave it undone for her. She got out of bed, wrapping a sheet, going to him but he stepped back from her, face all hard planes and angles, eyes blazing angrily.

"You reek of fear." He accused, running his hands through his hair, not meeting her eyes. "I have to go…I can't stay here. This was a mistake." He turned for the door, but Buffy couldn't leave it like that. Her mouth opened of its own violation and words spilled out.

"What do you mean a mistake?" He kept walking away. "Spike," She ran a bit, grasped his arm to stop him. "Where are you going?"

He did stop, turning his head to look at her from one eye. "Are you going to tell me you're not afraid?" He whispered and she knew better than to lie.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"But?"

"I'm afraid of what you're capable of." She admitted, letting go of his arm and wrapping her hands around her middle. "You've got access to my life, my family, my friends…"

"I've already proven I can be trusted with them..." He broke in angrily, turning fully and stalking towards her, all panther grace and fluid movement. She retreated instinctually and he stopped short, face twisting angrily, cheeks hollowing out, eyes flashing amber. "I've been a good pet vamp, even helped you battle the baddies…"

"That was before…" She took a deep breath. "Spike, things are different now. I don't have any hold over you…"

He reached out and touched her face and she jumped in her skin. "Oh, you've got a hold on me. I'll be who you need me to be..."

"And if you can't." She whispered, hating the quaver in her voice, the sheen of tears blurring her vision. "If I have to, to…"

"I won't, you'll have to trust me." He said softly, the pads of his thumbs brushing away her tears.

"But you're a Vampire." She looked up at him, pleading silently for him to understand where she was coming from.

"You trust Angel." He said, and there was a slight bite to his voice that warned her to tread lightly, still it needed to be said…

"He has a soul."

He spun away from her, punching air and making a strangled sound of frustration. "Well I don't!" He snarled, striding away from her then spinning back to stalk towards her. "They aren't handing them out like candy at Halloween, either, so we'll have to make due without one."

"I don't know if I can…I'll try…we'll work at it." He stopped coming towards her, close enough to touch but miles away.

"I have to go.." He said turning towards the door again.

"Spike! Wait. Spend the night; we'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow won't have changed anything Slayer." He said in a low strangled voice. "A clean break is best…if you ever need me…" And then he was gone. She struggled into her pajamas and raced down the stairs, calling his name, not caring who she woke. But Angel stopped her at her door.

"He's gone Buffy, you won't catch him." And she knew he was right.

* * *

Thanks to kbeautimous for all her help in editing this chapter :)


	28. Revelations

**Revelations**

 

As it turned out, the original spell had not been intended to create a mating bond between her and Spike. The original spell was the Tri-Something or other. Giles explained that the purpose of the spell was for two warriors to blend essences in order to create a powerful magic to defeat a third opponent. When the two "champions," as Giles called them, opened their link to the opponent, it created a magical vortex that killed all three participants. Something about the third essence of magic, or the third realm, or the third something. So basically, the spell was only used in dire circumstances because of the body count.

 

Giles believed that Drusilla manipulated the original spell in order to affect all souls instead of just three linked beings. And by stepping in and setting up a link, they had circumvented her changes. However, Vampires didn’t have souls, and they weren’t selfless beings, so Spike's demon had manipulated the spell further by twisting it into something that was acceptable to it. Thus, the mating bond. A mating bond that had been so powerful that it had protected both of them when they had opened the bond to a third being, creating the vortex thingie. Protecting the two of them had come at a high price however, the bond having been burned up in the process.

 

So the hellmouth was quiet, everything was right with the world, and Buffy found it easier to focus on the clinical facts of what had happened to her than to think about the emotional whirlwind the whole thing had created. Surely a soul-sucking vortex would have been less painful. So she got up in the mornings and went to school, did the whole college thing. She pretended to be normal, with the bouncy hair and the smiles and the studies. She even began casually dating Riley. In the evenings she Slayed. Vampires and Monsters and all manner of evil things. And she pretended that she did not miss Spike.

 

Her friends asked her if she was all right, and she assured them she was fine. She ruthlessly squashed the urge to sob into her pillow. She gave her all to making it work with Riley., a nice normal boy. Corn fed, polite, Iowa farm boy, everything a girl could ask for in a boyfriend. 

 

Buffy felt nothing. His soft, gentle kisses left her wanting, and his feather light touches made her giggle. This whole thing wasn't really fair to him. They'd been out half a dozen times, and though he hadn't pressured her at all, Buffy could tell that he wanted to move things to the next level.

 

Here was the crazy thing, though, that she hid in the dark corners of her mind, and didn't even really admit to herself. Every time Riley touched her she had awful pangs of guilt, because it felt like she was cheating on Spike. She knew that she was being irrational. Spike was gone. He was the one who had left. But those cold facts didn't change the truth. The truth was she wasn't ready to sleep with someone else. It would most definitely be a while before she was. So tonight she would tell Riley that it was best if they didn't see each other anymore.

 

Riley was, of course, promptly on time. And Buffy was running late. She ran about haphazardly, putting on her shoes with one hand and brushing through her hair with the other. When she finally made it down the stairs, Riley was chatting with her mom. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Dawn was deliberately ignoring him, and her mother was wearing her strained, polite smile. Why didn't her family ever like her boyfriends? Well, they had both liked Spike, but that was different.

 

Buffy gave what was becoming an exhausting cheery smile and bounded up to Riley, taking his arm and urging him out the door. Always the gentleman, Riley opened the car door for her and as usual, Buffy felt a pang, remembering that Spike always did that, too. God, she was pathetic. Riley carefully drove the speed limit and parked neatly in front of the ice cream shop. He got out and walked around the car to open the door for her again, holding her elbow. It was official. She was insane. How on earth could she prefer a swaggering, chain smoking, obnoxious Brit to this sweet guy? That bond had obviously warped her mind.

 

But after ice cream, Buffy took a deep breath and blurted out that she didn't want to see him anymore. As expected, these things never went smoothly. Riley wore his hurt puppy dog expression and wanted to know why. The truth was, she really didn't know, so she tried the whole, “it's not you it's me” spiel, which he didn't buy for a minute. Polite and well-mannered, yes. Stupid, no. Then he came right out and asked her if this was about that guy she had been seeing and she had admitted that yes partly she just wasn't over him.

 

This was, of course, followed by the give me a chance speech, how he wouldn't push her and he understood she needed to take things slow. This inability to listen to what she was saying was exactly what got on her nerves about him. She'd already said she wanted to call it quits, why did he have to drag it out like this? By the time it was all said and done, he had her so twisted around that she actually had another date with him for Saturday. Her life sucked!

 

Giving Riley a chaste kiss at the end of their evening made Buffy's skin crawl, and she knew that he could tell that she was uncomfortable. Now, instead of the relief she had told herself she would feel if she broke it off, she felt guilt and dread about their next date. Maybe she should have done this over the phone, where she wouldn't be affected by puppy dog eyes, and could hang up on him right after she was done talking. Then she could have done the evasion thing, not take his calls and stealthily avoid him at school. It was about time that this Slayer business came in handy for something. But nooooo. She had to be all mature about it. Maturity sucked. She would so not be trying it again any time soon.

 

Intensely frustrated by her life, Buffy took off straight away to Slay, without going inside and grabbing extra weapons. The hellmouth had been quiet and she didn't think that she would need a broadsword or a battle-axe or anything except her trusty stake. Oh, and her extra stake. But she never went anywhere without those so she was all prepared to deal out dusty death.

 

The first two cemeteries were quiet. Buffy carelessly scanned for broken earth and other signs of disturbance. She was far too caught up in her own thoughts, however, to give much thought to why Sunnydale was so peaceful tonight. She found out why when she hit the Garden Grove Cemetery. 

 

She felt them before she saw them. She considered running for it, but straightened her spine resolutely and gripped the stake in her pocket for comfort. It was too late for running. If she could sense them, they already knew she was there. These were not fledglings. The whole set up felt like an ambush and Buffy pushed down panic hard. 

 

Still, she did still have time to find an advantage, choose where to make her stand. Her eyes swept over the graveyard, landing on a tall mausoleum with sweeping stone sides. She pulled out her stake and broke into a run, dodging headstones gracefully. Two Vampires materialized out of the ether between her and her goal, but Buffy didn't stop. She stepped on one stone slab, sprang to a taller headstone and vaulted into the air, tucking her body in close and flying over her twin obstructions. The move was so unexpected that it left the two gaping like idiots long enough for her to crouch into a landing with her back against the stone wall, relatively safe from attack from behind.

 

She wasted no time, spinning quickly, kicking out. They were on her too fast to count them and Buffy ruthlessly squashed her fear. She concentrated on the fight. Spin kick, short jab, thrust, side swipe. Hit, punch, dodge, turn. There was no time for witty quips or snarky comebacks. She was in a fight for her life and she knew it. The twisted thing was that, in the back of her mind, she was thinking if she died tonight, she had an airtight excuse to miss her date on Saturday. Not even Riley could argue with attending one's own funeral as a necessary calendar item.

 

The air became thick with dust and Buffy started to breathe through her mouth to keep from choking on it. She was retreating now, on the defensive. There weren't that many left. She had worked her way through a swath of evil and ought to be proud. But she was exhausted, limbs shaking uncontrollably. Her movements were becoming clumsy and heavy and they knew it. She could see it on their taunting faces as they circled her. They had long ago drawn her out from the relative safety of her wall. She pictured her mother over her casket and lifted her chin. She wasn't going down easy.

 

She sprang on them with a new burst of energy and managed to dust two before she was knocked off balance. Her stake was wrenched from her fingers as the Vampire lowered his head to rip her throat out while she struggled ineffectually. 

 

The cold brush of death, sharp fangs piercing skin, and then she fell gracelessly on her butt, breaking her fall with both arms like an amateur as the Vampire attacking her dissolved. For a heartbeat she thought that she had somehow managed to stake it but then she realized the rescue had come from above. She stared up for one breathless moment at the figure in the dust. Black leather, blazing blue eyes, all she got was a glance before he was whirling to defend her. Never one to be a damsel, Buffy clambered to her feet and drew out her extra stake, finding only one Vampire to engage with.

 

They traded blows for a few seconds, before she managed to get a stake clumsily through its heart. There was no energy left in her for finesse or a display of skill. She was trembling like a leaf and her legs were made of rubber. Not the plastic container kind either, no, the floppy stretchy stuff used to make rubber bands. She stood alone in the swirl of dust, making a conscious effort to stand as straight and tall as possible, attempting to ooze confidence in her ability as a Slayer. She turned in a circle, finding the cemetery empty except for Spike.

 

Head tilted, arms akimbo, he looked exactly like he had the last time she had seen him…only with more clothes. Somehow, she had expected him to look different, because she was different. They stared at each other and Buffy knew he could hear her heart racing in her chest. For a moment the emotions overwhelming her were so intense that they made her breath shorten and her head feel light. She felt like giggling, she felt like dancing. She was snowed under with joy and affection and peace…it was, it was…

 

It was love.

 

That was the only way to describe what she was feeling. The realization left her shaking. She was in love with him. With Spike. Oh, God! Could he see it on her face? Did he know? Did it matter? Suddenly she just wanted to throw herself in her arms and confess her feelings. Kiss him and say sweet nothings. Shag him into the ground. He moved suddenly, coming into her space and Buffy tried to be rational, tried to think defensively, but she found herself moving towards him as well. So what if he was a dangerous Vampire? She could handle him.

 

Her joy was fading fast as he grew nearer, though. There were so many obstacles, and who was to say he was even interested in overcoming them? Who was to say he hadn't jumped in just because he felt some small amount of misplaced loyalty, but would be moving on when they had exchanged pleasantries? It wasn't just her heart on the line…Jenny Calendar's face flashed in her mind and her stomach plummeted to her feet with a sickening jar to her insides. Why did she always fall in love with the impossible?

 

Spike stood there for a moment and then reached out with both hands, wiping the pads of his fingers over her wet cheeks. She hadn't realized that tears had sprung until he brought it to her attention. No telling how many innocents had fallen prey to him since the last time she had seen him, he looked well fed. Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. It was Angel all over again. Why were the powers so cruel? She'd learned her lesson when she had let Angel walk free, why did they have to test her like this? All of the sudden, she wished he had never come back…because now…because now…

 

"I haven't been feeding, been drinking rations since the day I left. Just like bloody Peaches."

 

She blinked. That was impossible. Vampires didn't just give up killing. "Oh, come on, Spike," She said softly, her voice trembling. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

 

"Have I ever lied to you?" He had her there…but he couldn't be serious. Spike lived for the kill, he was violence walking, God help her but that was one of the things that drew her to him. "Had to prove I could do it. To myself. Prove I could live without it. Had to prove that the hunt wasn't as important as I thought it was before I had you." He paused then, took in her dumbstruck expression. Decided that she was speechless and continued in a suddenly not so gentle tone of voice. "You can call the Poof if you want. I've been parading around LA wearing the poncey cape of defender. Been doing all kinds of disgusting good deeds just to keep myself busy."

 

Could he be serious? She wouldn't have to dust him. But she should call. Even if it meant talking to Angel…about Spike. That would be beyond awkward.

 

"Why are you here?" The words weren't right. There were so many things to say, so much to talk about. But they just popped out without her consent and she stood there like an idiot, embarrassed for herself.

 

"Why am I here?" he repeated with a wry twist to his tone, his expression changing like a kaleidoscope and his body springing into familiar action. He began to pace and Buffy smiled, it was good when he did the expected. "’Why am I here?’ the bint asks. As if she doesn't know. As if she doesn't know she has my heart in the palm of her hand."

 

His head swiveled, eyes piercing her. "I'm a soddin’ fool I am, love's bitch. Always have been. You own me completely, your willing slave." His hands came up, cupped her face, then fell away when he spun around to pace again. She knew she ought to break in, but she couldn't seem to get in a word in edgewise. "But you don't want me, I'm a bleedin’ Vampire, can't be trusted, can't be loved. Too good for the likes of me. Used to it anyway, got bloke's lined up around the bend just beggin’ for your favor, not that you notice them…got eyes for no one but the…"

 

He finally went still and silent when she stepped into his path and placed her fingers on his lips. She really didn't know what to say. He still hadn’t said why he was here. And for some reason, she believed him about where he had been and what he had been doing.

 

"Are you saying you're in love with me?" She finally whispered, unable to get any other words past her lips. His eyes bulged and he got that outraged expression that she loved so much on his face.

 

"In love with you?! In love with you?! Haven't you been listening to a word I said? How could you not know I'm in love with you?! Are you blind?! Are you deaf?!"

 

"Boy, Spike you really know how to woo a girl. Just call her names and she'll swoon at your feet." Buffy said, rolling her eyes, but unable to suppress the grin of pure ecstasy on her lips. When he opened his mouth to snark back she stopped him cold by grabbing his hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

 

She felt like she was drowning in his touch. He immediately snaked his arms around her and pulled her close to him. It was like coming home. He tasted the same, fresh and clean, his tongue slid against hers like cool velvet. His shoulders were firm, his muscles tense as she slid her hands over his familiar body. He touched her all over, his hands in her hair, on her face, down her back, on her hips. He nipped, sucked, and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and she supposed for them there might not be. It leant an air of desperation to her kisses, her touches. He felt it and responded in kind.

 

She snapped back to reality when she felt her back pressed roughly up against the mausoleum wall, his hand inching her skirt up as he laid feverish kisses along her collarbone. "Spike, we can't do this here. In the cemetery. Eewww…"

 

He chuckled darkly against her skin, one hand in her hair, the other brushing over the vee of her panties. He did it again. "Been so bloody long since I touched you, an eternity…" He whispered, his mouth finding its way back to hers and kissing her, soft wet kisses. One long finger pushed the scrap of material aside, finding her wet and wanting.

 

"Spike, seriously, let’s go somewhere else." She panted between kisses, even as she shamelessly titled her hips to give him better access, a shock rocking through her body when he gently moved his finger over her bare, wet clit. He growled words of desire as he trailed his mouth down to her throat. She arched her head back and gave him access as he slipped first one finger, and then two, inside her. Within seconds she was clutching him and trembling as her first orgasm in weeks, since the last time he'd touched her, swept over her. The speed and strength of her response shocked her beyond belief.

 

She came down off her high to his soft kisses; he had removed his hand from her panties but continued to rock his hips against her as if he couldn't stop. "Where do you want to go?" He asked, breathless, his voice that low, husky, deep drawl that made her shiver. It was empowering to know that he wanted her this badly.

 

"You have to know," She said pushing off the wall, straightening her clothes, "That this can't work. We can't be together. We're too different." The words came out choked and brittle, tearing her very heart out as she said them. She wanted to confess her love but she knew if she did that Spike would never walk away, he was built that way, loyal. But she could never trust him, not completely, not like before. She took his hand, walking backwards with him, towards somewhere that they could get a room. "Tonight, that's all there can be. You do know that…right?"

 

He quickened, pushing into her space, one long leg striding between hers and she walked backwards, his lithe hard body brushing up against hers. "Doesn't have to be that way, we were all right before. Bloody perfect. Can be again."

 

She turned, disentangling herself from him before she tripped and fell on her bum. But she kept her hold on his hand and sped up her pace, eager to be somewhere she could touch him better. "That was before…" She trailed off, not really wanting to talk about it, but needing to before they fell into bed together. She couldn't lead him on. She couldn't lead herself on. If she forgot for one moment that this was just temporary she might never be able to let him go. "We can't have that again. The bond is gone."

 

He turned her then, his eyes boring into hers, his hands on her shoulders. "We could have it again." He whispered. "It's just a simple bite, some love making, some words. All you have to do is surrender to me, and you could be mine again." He whispered.

 

Her eyes bulged and widened, she hadn't thought of that. And the dark promise left her speechless.

 

"Would do anything to be that close to you again." He continued. "I love you. Love you so completely. I want to have that with you again. And we could Buffy, it would be so easy…" He trailed off, leaning in, kissing her open mouth. "Be mine, luv, belong to me, I'll be so good to you, I swear…" He kissed the corner of her mouth, bent his head to kiss her neck, pulling her closer. He wrapped his arms around her, slid his hands down to cup her ass, his touch reverent and familiar. "I'll make you love me. Love you so good you can't help it…." He ground her pelvis into hers, reminding her of the fantastic bulge in his pants.

 

Oh God! She needed to think. She needed to be calm and rational. But he was shoving his hands up under her top to touch her breasts and she couldn't think of anything except his cool hands…She pushed him away, hard.

 

He looked up, wounded, his hands still in the air where she used to be.

 

"You want to be mates again?" She asked dumbfounded. "You can do that?" She rushed on without an answer, spinning away so she wouldn't have to look into his eyes, eyes that burned into her soul and made her knees shake. Oh, Lord. He was offering her paradise and she didn't think she could bear it if this glimmering hope was ripped from her. "Are you serious?" She asked in a low voice, her head bent dejectedly.

 

"Oi, pet! Don't be so sad. I'll be a good mate. I'll take care of you and love you and…" He trailed off when she spun around and ran into his arms, squeezing tight enough to make him grunt.

 

She looked up at him through her shining tears. 

 

"Can you really do that? Make it like it was?" She asked in a trembling tearful voice, and his face gentled.

 

"Course I can, gorgeous. Do anything you want me to. I want to do this. If you'll just let me. I know you don't love me like I do you, but in time…" He cut off again when she whacked him in his head.

 

"You idiot! You blind, self-centered idiot. How dare you assume anything about my feelings? Of course I love you. How could you not know that! Do you think I let Vampires kiss me everyday! What kind of a girl do you think I am?" She took a shuddering breath, reveling in his awestruck look, and looped her arm through his. "Now, is your car here or not because I am sooo sick of the cemetery."

 

Miracles would never cease, Spike had nothing to say. But he did sweep her up in his arms and break into a run for the edge of the cemetery. She threw her arms around his neck, squealing, that day at the park flashing in her memory. On the street was his car and he set her on her feet, opening the passenger door for her. She got in, scowling at the blacked out windows. She hated not being able to see where she was going. And no matter how good his senses were, Spike must not be able to see well. He was in the driver's' seat a moment later, but didn't start the car. "Where do you want to go?"

 

"I don't know. A room. I want to do it tonight, the bond."

 

He nodded, looked at her out of the corner of his eye, started the car and peeled off down the road. Sinking down into Spike's soft leather seats brought into focus the fact that she was exhausted from her fight. Her limbs were shaky and noodly. She brought one trembling hand up to her neck and felt the scratch on her throat, shuddering at how close death had been. The adrenaline from the fight and her exhilaration over Spike's sweet confessions was draining out of her quickly and she leaned her head against the cooling glass of the window and allowed her eyes to slide shut.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind was an annoying voice telling her that letting her guard down while in the car with a dangerous killer was a bad idea. She told the voice to shut up and tuned in on the soothing sound of the tires spinning over the asphalt. She could almost hear Giles polishing his glasses, and Xander's outraged squawks. She could picture Willow's wide eyed, tongue-tied amazement, Anya's inappropriate remarks. But that could all wait until tomorrow. Right now she was safe and warm and tired. She'd call her mom when they got there, let her know everything was fine. Somehow she thought that maybe her mom's reaction would be ok, that she didn't have to worry about her. And if a person's mom was ok with something, than it must be the right thing to do. Right?

 

She supposed this was all a Slayer could ask for when it came to happily ever after. Spike reached over and squeezed her knee and Buffy covered his hand with hers, snuggling deeper into the soft leather as she made the decision to trust him.

 

_ The End _

 

* * *

 

 

I’d like to take a quick moment to thank kbeautimous for stepping in and helping me beta this story. I wouldn’t have been able to finish it without her strong editing skills. I’d also like to thank all of the people who have left me reviews and messages of encouragement. This fandom has a special place in my heart. It’s my favorite out of all the fandoms I enjoy. Maybe it’s because it was my first but I think it is because it is the best and to have people reach out to me to encourage me with this story, my favorite story, really means a lot. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. All my Love, Rain. 


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